#he DOES get whipped in this fic and it IS bad but weirdly it feels like it slides off too easily

[llycaons]

so to continue the saga of this genius, level-headed wwx with a strong gc, now he has his own title (boyun-jun, which means 'one who disperses clouds', hence the title of the fic), and he just declared his debts to the jiangs had been paid, made jfm sign some papers saying as such, physically overpowered jc when he tried to stop him, and walked out to general acclaim and well-wishes

I feel like I'm in a mirror world like who IS this guy. sure it's fun in a self-indulgent way to see wwx take his freedom from people who use him and treat him like shit, but like. this is going to sound awful but the fic only focuses on his incredible skills, great acclaim, and high principles, and barely on what he's suffered. wwx as a character is someone who sacrifices tremendously and who's poorly treated, for various reasons, by a great many characters. that's why jyl and lwj's love and support of him matter so much. that's why his eventual ending is so satisfying. because it takes a while to get there. there's no real buildup to this and no reward

and his parting from the jiang sect is supposedly to be PAINFUL - yeah they didn't treat him great all the time but that was his home and his family. focusing on only the good parts of leaving and the bad parts of the jiangs and pretending like wwx has zero emotional attachment to jfm or even jc just rings so oddly. he lived there for years! he grew up there! all those memories! of course it's hard! even in the book he's happy to go back and show lwj around. and jfm did love him, I'll stand by that. he was a shitty father and a shitty guardian and a shitty sect leader and he may have seen wwx as an extention of his parents but I refuse to believe he didn't care about him just a little

wwx waited until jyl got married to leave, but he barely seems to care about her, and she's bizarrely blind to any conflict between him and jc. and that's bullshit! he died in despair because of her death. and she DIED for him!!!!

besides, younger wwx in the book WAS obnoxious and annoying and pushy and pissed people off. he had maturing to do! if he walks out at the height of his martial power with his reputation still intact and the world praishing him at every turn...like, where is there for him to go?

no gc loss, no burial mounds, no self-sacrifice, no whimsy, no pranks, no loyalty, barely any love for his shijie, an incredible reputation amongst the common people...this isn't missing the themes in the way most mdzs fics do, but it's sure as hell not accurate to canon

[planete777]

BAD INFLUENCE・⁠｡♪ LN4 [+ OP81]

( lando norris x fem!reader ft. oscar piastri)

READ PART 2!

IN WHICH. getting high was never on oscar's roster. getting high and enjoying it with y/n and lando wasn't either, but that just makes it much more... exciting. (based on this ask)

WARNINGS. 16+, suggestive content, drug use (as per), high hotness pt 875443, oscar cameo (woop woop 🥳), make outs, first time getting high, oscar being whipped for lando and y/n? wbk, a bit of mxm content between drivers, shotgunning coz it's my most favourite thing ever

NOTE. LANDOSCAR!! this may probably be my favourite fic and is my longest so im looking forward to you guys reading it!!! well overdue in my humblest opinion, but i delivered hehe. enjoy my luvs and a very happy new year in advance mwah mwah mwah 😚😚 i appreciate all of you readers, thank you for all your support 💓💓💓

SIDENOTE. my askbox is now closed for requests 🤍

‧₊˚✩彡 taglist @laciijane @ferrarrigirl @norrizzandpia @mimi-luvzyu (use askbox above if you'd like to be added!)

frankly speaking, a 'you up?' text from oscar piastri, whose entire persona was an antithesis of what that type of message usually pertained to, isn't something lando was expecting at 1am after a tedious race weekend. knows oscar to be one who sleeps in too early, as if his circadian rhythm was built upon the foundation of a restrictive curfew, and even fathoming the fact that he is awake past 12 is rather peculiar.

yet, with the mutually pre-established sense that lando would be awake (he's probably an insomniac, but it's not too concerning for him to actually check), and that oscar was asking if he was just for the sake of, most likely because he's, unusually, unable to sleep, lando replies with much sluggish vim.

fingers moving as if they played in a dream, he's able to reply with 'yh, why????' and sends it off before throwing his phone on the bed. he thinks, if he's sober, he would care more that this is oscar!!!! who is normally adamant about getting sleep!!! and not looking more sleep deprived than his naturally downturned eyes already make he seem to be!!!! but his mind feels like gooey viscous, and he counts about 3,000 peaks and troughs of the popcorn ceiling above before losing count and seeking solace in the spliff that burns his throat like a madman. he ponders if he's going crazy.

it's not long after that the undulating, monotonous buzz from his phone tickles his skin and with a sigh he goes to reply. and as he does so, his girlfriend, curiosity piqued, perks up from the foot of the bed.

"who's texting you this late?"

she looks ridiculously amusing: head hanging off the edge, loose and completely yielding like a dead body, and the only thing that reassures lando of her consciousness is the occasion movement of her arm to take another drag.

he wedges the joint between his reddened lips, lips curling awkwardly to speak, "piastri. dunno what he wants th- oh shit."

he's never felt such a sinking, crippling feeling of his high escaping him like a broken dam before. it's weirdly chilling, and for a good second, he feels brightly and vividly sober again. the texts just... stare at him and he almost wants to hurl his phone at the wall and watch it rain a litany of debris.

osc: just... forgot to give you back your stuff that i borrowed

osc: found some green leaf stuff in it lol im a bit concerned

lando's read it so many times, he's more than certain he knows just how many letters it consists of. fingers hover above the keyboard but it looks like they're weirdly swimming in air as he debates just what to write, and y/n is suddenly hissing his name, having sat up.

"— lan'! fucking hell, what happened?"

he moves on autpilot, back resting up the headboard, "he's found my weed."

y/n— y/n snorts. she sighs, moves back to her original pose, and lando's brain feels like static.

"love, i thought it would be worse."

lando splutters, "worse? babe, this is already bad! he could tell management for all i know." the mere thought of that makes lando's mind congeal. nevertheless, high out of his wits, he thinks he would somehow find a way to continue even if he was implored to stop.

she's disagreeing and laughing, and lando doesn't know what to make of it.

"nah, you're good. oscar wouldn't tell a soul," it's silent as he sees a burst of smoke ascend from the edge of the mattress, "tell him to bring it over."

lando fights with himself in his head. it's hilarious, really, watching his face morph from one emotion to another, and after 5 minutes with no whooshing affirmative of a message being sent, y/n exhales.

the bed curves in as she crawls up towards lando, before plucking the phone from his grip.

"it's really not that deep, lan'," her voice feels like cotton in his ears, "oscar isn't like that."

her fingers fly across the keyboard, how she does so in her inebriated state, lando has no clue, and just as quickly as she snatched the phone, she's sliding it back between his fingers.

"how— how do you know that?"

all presumptions, really, lando thinks. they may be good friends, him and oscar, but they've still got many, many steps to go before he's reassured that the other wouldn't go running his mouth to management because he found *fucking weed* in his bag.

the little voice at the back of his mind seeths, 'you shouldn't be smoking anyway', but he ignores it. what the hell does it know?

y/n goes to straddle him, crotch digging into his. its a soft wave of pleasure that oozes from the pressure, and lando lets a small moan mix with the puff of smoke he blows out. they would've fucked if only his limbs didn't feel like they've been detached and re-stitched; maybe they'd end the night with a lazy ride.

his girlfriend smirks, all cunning and undeniably hot, sucking in as much smoke as she can before blowing it all on his face. if anybody else had done this, he'd turn feral, but there's something alluring when y/n's exhale tickles his skin like feathers.

"how do i know? well, oscar, he kinda reminds me of you—" lando interrupts with a raised brow and a questioning stare, but y/n proceeds, "both of you are- you were- itching for a release. him not as much as you, but i still see it."

and lando can't really deny that, because he sees it too. in the way oscar's eyes seem to dart with dreaded uncertainty, and the way his shoulders are always up and tense, as if he has been tied like a puppet.

"that's what i call 'destined to get high'," y/n banters. it makes lando snort and roll his eyes (ultimately omitting to dwell on the sliver of seriousness that leaks through).

"dunno why you're rolling your eyes, you were basically begging me to give you a spliff," y/n taunts, and even though he groans at the reminiscence, he doesn't deny it. doing so would be like calling himself michael schumacher.

"yeah, whatever," he takes a lazy drag, a hand sliding up and down y/n's thigh, "at least i'm sexy when getting stoned."

y/n cackles, dissolving into a small giggle as she twirls her fingers through lando's curls; she never wants to let him go.

"damn right, baby."

another ping sounds from lando's phone, and subconsciously, his hands snakes to get it.

when he turns it on, he doesn't think he can be gobsmacked with such intensity twice in a day.

landooo: yh just bring it over

landooo: you can join us if you'd like

landooo: 😉

osc: uhm sure..

"y/n."

-.-.-.-.-

weed.

he'll be fucking damned.

the laugh that is punched out of him is one of disbelief, and, quite frankly, sheer horror.

he'd only wanted to borrow some shaving cream, after all, he's not one to favour the prickly itch of stubble. and in perfect, restless lando fashion, he was given the whole essentials bag and tasked with finding it himself.

which then leads him to now, palm burning with the weight of three spliffs that had somehow tumbled out of a flat metal tin.

he stares at them for so long that he might as well have burned holes into them (ironic), and in a flurry of movement, he's stuffing everything back into the bag, zipping it closed. if he doesn't see it, then he doesn't know it's there. cool.

but he's just standing, in the middle of his hotel room, completely clueless and delirious. he doesn't know how many times he wipes perspiration off his palms and onto his shorts, neither does he know how he's able to text lando about his findings.

originally, he thought that sending the infamous, suggestively connotated 'you up?' would've trimmed a bit of the tension away, yet it seems like lando, without fail, waters the situation with a fuck-ton more.

"'join us'? fucking hell."

oscar feels absolutely scorched from the wisps of his hair to the tips of his toes, and a spark of something curls in his gut.

no, absolutely not.

it's- he flips his watch to check the time- one am for fuck's sake, and lando's— getting high. smoking weed. [most likely] with his girlfriend.

whatever it is that makes his gut its abode curls even more as he shoves his feet into the nearest shoes he can find, and tames his hair in the mirror by the doorway. finding the night already too hard to bare, he doesn't dwell on what he'd done, and heads off to lando's room with sickening anticipation swirling within the grooves of his skin.

the walk is only a few seconds long, and oscar curses the fact that they weren't roomed further apart (impractical in usual circumstances, but the current predicament is anything but usual). he guesses he stands there, navy blue wash bag clutched in a vice grip, for many minutes (his concept of time tonight is royally fucked— how has he stayed up this late?) before he musters up some courage to knock on the door. in the quietude of the night, the sound is magnified to the point where he winces and hopes that no one else on their floor wakes up.

he hears a quiet rustle from behind the door, sighs for the umpteenth time that day (honestly, he could have a smoke for himself to- no.) before it's swiftly open.

y/n stands there, no sign of a spliff in sight, but her heavy lidded red eyes (that must hurt, right?) and the pungent smell of weed is enough to tell.

"ah, golden boy is here," y/n's grinning, as much as she can do without it looking robotic, and oscar blushes.

"g-golden boy?"

"i said what i said," she opens the door wider, and oscar's vision catches a limp leg hanging off the side of the bed, "you coming in or what?"

he's never been in such a mind-tearing crossroad before. wants to be reasonable and say no, afterall his job is on the line here (just because lando hasn't been caught, doesn't mean he won't, too). but then he's thinking that he's played angel's advocate for too long, and, as if the universe wants to commit a double homicide, lando is walking over, countenance lackadaisical and bends down as he wraps his arms around her waist.

he asks for forgiveness, because such a temptation before him is completely unforgiving , and oscar finds his vascillations come to an end the second he makes eye contact with his teammate.

it's then he realises that the something that had been driving his intestines mad was sheer want, and, having a mind of their own, his feet shuffle into the room, decision finalised by the click of the door shutting behind him.

he just hopes he doesn't regret this is in the morning.

the couple, with eased familiarity, move back to the bed, leaving oscar standing there, lost and expecting. lando regains possession of the spliff, back flat against the bed and arm bent behind his head.

he's turning to oscar, several beats later, with a heated look that just pulls the australian right in.

"put the bag down, osc," he's demanding— oh fuck, "and come over here."

oscar feels rather mortified at the effect lando's assertiveness has on him. his heart curdles, drips away like goo, and he can't think straight.

toes off his shoes, sliding them out of the way with his foot, before dumping the bag on lando's luggage and tentatively making his way to the bed.

it's excruciatingly daunting, must he say, and he's sure it's blatant because y/n is grinning softly and beckoning him closer with the wave of a hand.

"you're good, oscar."

then he's fully on the bed, a thin sheen of gray blurring his vision and the stench of smoke so thick, he could get high off it alone.

lando's splayed in front of him, watching intensely as his fingers accomodate a joint between them, and y/n's at his side, right at the foot of the bed, fiddling with a metal tin of her own.

he wonders just how long they've been doing this for.

"for me, since i was 18/19 maybe. lando started about a year ago."

oscar's brain fucking spasms.

his head whips to y/n, then back to lando, who just smiles and takes another drag, "a year?!"

the girl beside him giggles, turning back to him with a freshly rolled spliff of his own, "yeah. practically drooling to take a hit."

his teammate groans, dragging a hand down his face before sitting up, they seem to go through this ordeal once or twice before.

before he can question any more, y/n points the joint at him, "you sure you want to do this?"

funny, he's asking himself this. has been ever since he read the proposition that lando (y/n) had sent, and he had replied with a seemingly confused 'sure'. heat feels like a thousands ants crawling up his body, and the silence is even worse because he's certain his ears are filled with cement.

"am i— am i gonna get addicted to... this?"

lando shakes his head just as y/n shrugs, "depends, love. if you've got good enough self control and don't rely on it too much, you'll be fine."

oscar gives a sigh of relief, but turns tense again as he looks at lando. almost telepathically, he knows what oscar is thinking.

"no osc, i'm not hooked on this. i only do it every couple of weeks or so."

his hands raise up in defense, "just asking, mate."

"and you have every right to, baby," y/n says, then scoops his hand into her grip and puts the spliff in his hand, "now take this and let lando teach you."

oscar doesn't know what to do with it. he just stares at the green stick in his hand and wills up some courage to look back up at lando. for the first time in 22 years, he's going to experience what it's like to get high, and the excitement that crawls up his spine is chilling.

"take this," lando pushes a bottle of water into his hands, and oscar looks at it in confusion.

"it's your first time, so it'll probably make you cough a ton. drinking water helps."

oscar nods, gently taking and unscrewing it open. he gulps it down like a starved animal, and almost chokes when he notices his teammates girlfriend staring bullets into his face. his heart jumps and he stops drinking.

"now put the spliff in your mouth and let me light it for you."

oscar does so, feeling the weight of the rolled joint between his lips is completely maddening.

his teammate fishes a black lighter from the bedside table, then scooches closer to oscar's crossed legs. lando's body is like a furnace of drunken heat, and it only gets worse when his hand lands right on oscar's bare thigh.

it feels perfect and oscar thinks he's surfing on the waves of euphoria already.

"this good?" lando questions his touch, and oscar doesn't waste time to nod, "alright— when i light it, you're gonna try and inhale as much as you can. don't let it stay in your throat or you're gonna cough."

oscar bobs his head affirmatively.

"if you can't, just take it in small amounts, not too much that it hits your throat."

then lando's leaning in, flame swaying from the lighter, and oscar's eyebrows scrunch as he follows it closer and closer to the spliff.

it's instaneous, the heat that fills his mouth, and in a hurried succession, oscar is inhaling and spluttering like a madman. his eyes are burning, they may already be red at this point, and his nose feels ripped off.

"take it easy, love," a hand- y/n's- rests upon his back and he finds himself needing composure, and not only from his failed attempt to smoke.

"wow uh that was— uhm..."

lando rubs his thigh, with the intention to comfort, but oscar finds himself more pent up than before. the weed is already kicking in and his mind feels chopped into pieces and mixed with cake batter, and every touch feels like a punch.

"you good to go again?" lando queries. oscar nods, his throat feeling too rough to speak up, "okay then, take your time and calm yourself down. small intakes, yeah?"

the spliff goes back between his lips, and with lando watching him like he's the best movie he's ever seen, he's sucking in the smoke cautiously and— fuck, it feels so so good. he's unravelled everywhere, not a kink left in his joint nor a knot remaining in his muscles, and when he breathes the smoke out, he lets his head fall back with a smile on his face.

"there you go," lando's voice sounds loose and airy in his mind, and oscar finds himself loving it.

"look at him, babe," y/n chimes from beside him, and his head rolls to give her an inebriated grin, "told you he was meant for it."

lando hums, agreeing, from in front of him, "gonna shotgun with him."

whatever that is, y/n is eager to see it happen, and oscar gives lando a confused look. it only evokes a cute grin from the other, who plucks the spliff from oscar's fingers.

"i'll take a hit and blow it in your mouth, if that's cool with you."

and— oscar moans involuntarily. he doesn't know where it comes from but it's practically punched out of him with how loud it is, and lando smirks widely. all oscar can do is watch as he fills his mouth with smoke and shuffles closer to him. his heart palpitates, beating like a drum piece, and his skin is damp and flushed from the intensity of it all.

lando assesses oscar's decision, confirming his consent as he nods, and slowly, lando snakes an arm around his neck, pulling him closer. oscar is compliant, body wanting and downright desperate, mouth opening on autopilot.

the second lando's lips attach to his and the smoke is pushed into his mouth, oscar fucking loses it. his eyes roll to the back of his head, and he's grabbing lando's hair and pushing his mouth deeper.

he's kissing his teammate with all he has to give, and lando— he's reciprocating it, lips hungry on oscar's, biting and licking everywhere. for a second, oscar can't think about anything, mind filled with just lando, as his tongue slips in and turns the kiss filthy.

oscar hasn't made out with anyone with such ferocity. he's encompassed in scorching heat, and the euphoria just gets better as lando trails his lips down his neck. the bites and licks are inclement, and oscar's sure there'd be marks tomorrow, angry and purple, but right now, he doesn't care. not when lando's hands creep up his shirt, and run up his torso, resting upon his nipples and twirling them around his fingers.

"oh fuck, lando," his moan is so high pitched it sounds foreign and it's almost hard for him to believe that it comes from him. but he's sure it does, because another is forced out as soft hand turns his head to the side and there's another set of lips on his in an instant.

he thinks he could hooked on y/n's kisses, warm, wet and so fucking sensual, he feels worshipped. not an inch of skin is missed by her tongue, and with every drag of her lips against his, he's concluding that this would be the perfect way to die.

oscar's so hard in his jeans from lando's stimulation, y/n's kisses, and the heightened sensation of everything from the weed, that he almost cums in his shorts. he can only imagine how plump it could be, and how a mouth on it would have him sobbing for days.

but he doesn't have to, because lando creeps a hand to his crotch and squeezes. the whine that leaves oscars mouth and into his teammate's girlfriend's is criminal.

"gonna suck you off so good, osc," lando moans in his ear, breath warm and words dirty, "you like that?"

and as oscar begs him to, he thinks that maybe getting high with lando and y/n isn't so bad afterall.

[katierosefun]

👻🎬💛🎨✨️? (Also hi! I hope you're doing well! :^] also I am really looking forward to reading that new fic you posted later!!!)

hiii iva!! i'm well, i hope you are too, and aah thank you <33 // from these asks

👻 What is your wildest headcanon?

um . . . i don't know how wild this is, but one of my more obscure headcanons, i should say, might be that like. joo won fucking sucks at card games, especially mao. (which is a ridiculously fun card game, but i can imagine joo won hating it. the poor guy will do something, and dong sik will give him an extra card with an obscure penalty description.

"card for talking."

"i was asking a question!"

". . . another card for talking."

joo won, glaring at dong sik and wondering how much he actually loves his partner: >:(

and later, dong sik grinning at joo won and going, "card for not kissing cardmaster on the cheek."

"how is that a rule."

"card for talking."

"does that rule only apply to me, or all the other players?"

"card for talking again. gosh, you're bad at this, aren't you, inspector han.")

(also, that kissing rule absolutely only applies to joo won. ji hoon keeps getting extra cards because dong sik somehow also made it a rule that no one's allowed to laugh when he penalizes joo won.)

🎬 If a movie or show were based on your fic, which fic would you choose and who would you fancast?

hm, i've def thought that last ones out would make an interesting film/short film of a kind. i'd definitely keep the original cast of beyond evil, but as for whoever would play mi yeon . . . not really sure, but i did see han so hee whip out a baton in my name (2021), and ever since then, i've been thinking "omg she's twinning with joo won :)" and i think it'd be neat if she played a grown version of mi yeon.

���� What is the most impactful lesson you’ve learned about writing?

mm, that writing for yourself is the most important and most sustainable way to keep yourself from getting burned out. i'll admit that i sometimes have moments of self-doubt and annoyance about like. how i think fandom culture has very drastically changed since i was writing fic. (tiktok is a scourge on society and i think it's personally responsible for making people unable to just enjoy slower forms of storytelling.)

so like, teaching myself to really try to get away from all the noise and get swept in "what's popular / what's not / what'll get me the most kudos, hits, attention, likability / what'll make people want to keep reading what i write" has been a hard but freeing lesson to teach myself.

actually, just in the last few weeks, i found myself kind of. burnt out from writing fic in general? i think it might have been a mix of just my personal life + academics really taking a toll on my creativity, but i think i also found myself really craving external validation through ficwriting as well--and when i realized that was starting to spiral somewhere, i sort of closed myself off for a bit and?? weirdly?? found myself writing some more of my original works instead, and what was so great about that was that it was fun and freeing and just? giving myself space to explore what i want to write and what interests me alone gave me a lot more energy to get excited about writing again.

i feel like i've learned a variation of this lesson a million times lmao, but like! i'm always a little bit in awe of how no matter the number of times i come across this realization, it always makes me fall in love with writing just a little bit more.

🎨 If someone were to make fanart of your work, what fic or scene would you hope to see?

oh . . . maybe the very last scene in in my breath again.

✨️ Out of the comments you’ve received on your fics, what are two or three of your favorites?

well, first of all, i always brighten up whenever i see you comment on my fic, just because they always make me feel appreciated :'))

i also really love this comment from if it rises fast / it can't last and also this comment from stars by the pocketful, because i just. really feel happy when people nail the exact mood / line that i felt proudest of!

and of course, there are a good handful of others who i just. always kind of. hold onto their comments very dear, just because sentimental reasons haha

[mintwithchoco]

Fluff prompt that I can't stop thinking about and thought you might like too! Mini drabble prompt: You're feeling stressed out and overwhelmed by life, and you find yourself telling Ryujin you don't want to drag her down by being in a relationship since you know she is busy. Ryujin is very supportive and listens patiently, before interrupting you with a kiss and telling you just how much you mean to her <3

Heal

ITZY Ryujin x Male Reader

Word Count: 1046 Words

Categories: shorts, fluff, angst, softgirlfriend!ryujin

note: i guess this is my comeback fic lol. completely unedited because i wanna put this out quick. enjoy!

Stressed, exhausted and fatigued. That was all you felt at the moment while you dragged your feet towards the door to your apartment. If you wanted to, you could just cry on the spot. Your mind was going places, thinking about your troubles at work and your worries in life. You sighed deeply, even though it does not really help in lessening down the heavy feeling in your heart.

I feel like shit.

As you arrive on the front of your door, you hesitate to open it. Why? Is it because you don’t feel welcomed in your own home? Is it too hard for you to turn the bronze colored doorknob? Or perhaps it’s the fear of intruders in your home, who could possibly be hiding behind the door, waiting to end your life? It was pretty late already, so that could be the case.

Eventually, you opened the door.

“I’m home.”

You took off your shoes and socks as a figure emerged from the living room.

“Welcome home, oppa!” Ryujin said while tying up her hair. “Wanna eat something? I could whip something up for— you.” Her voice faltered after watching you sit down harshly on the floor.

“Hey, Ryujin.” She rushed to the foyer, then sat down beside you.

“What’s wrong?” Ryujin’s tone turned softer than before. She then placed an arm on your shoulder and dragged her body closer to yours.

You sighed. “Nothing, it’s just that I messed up at work. And it’s the fourth time this has happened.” Ryujin nods. “The boss was furious. Like, really furious. Maybe I’ll get fired eventually.”

“Don’t say that, oppa.” Ryujin pats your shoulder gently. “You won the best employee position in your company last month, right? There’s no way that your boss would let you go.”

“Yeah, I know. But that doesn’t mean that it’s not entirely possible. On top of that, he gave me more work than usual after scolding me. Ugh, there’s also that meeting I need to prepare for tomorrow.” You looked towards Ryujin, who had a sad expression on her face. You blurt out a fake chuckle. “Hey, don’t worry about me! I’ll be just fine—”

Almost immediately, you were pulled into Ryujin’s embrace. Your head landed between her neck and her chest. She wrapped her hands around your torso and rubbed your back gently. Her body emitted warmth that seeped into your own skin, which was very soothing and weirdly enough, addicting.

“There, there.” Ryujin patted your head, slightly ruffling your hair. "Everything will be just fine. Don't be so down on yourself. If you need someone, I'll always be here."

You eased into the hug even more. You were like an ice cream, slowly melting in her arms. To be honest, you needed her warmth after a bad day. It never fails to calm you down and bring you back from the despair of work.

Still, there was something that you can’t seem to brush off from your shoulders, something so crucial that you’re not willing to share it with your beloved. But after hearing her last sentence, you gathered up the courage to make things right.

“Hey, Ryujin?”

“Hm?”

“Aren’t you tired?”

“Tired of what?” You bit your lips as anxiety filled your brain.

“You know… all of this.” Ryujin looked confused. “You’re an idol, so you must have a tougher time than me. You never look stressed, let alone tell all your troubles to me. It was always me who’s the weaker one. And I feel like…” Your throat felt heavy. The words you were about to say were going to leave a deep scar in both of your hearts. “You’re too good for me.”

Ryujin was stunned, but her expression was the complete opposite. Her warm smile from comforting you earlier was still plastered on her face. Her dark brown eyes were bright, emitting a gentle and kind feel.

You felt wrong. Very wrong. Yet, you continued on with your words.

“It feels like you’re hiding your pain in order to heal mine. It’s not wrong, but I just don’t like the sound of that. I should also be the one to heal you. But, I’m just a loser, complaining and worrying about life while dragging you down with me. How can I ever heal you if I can’t even get my shit together?” Your throat began to close up. A single tear rolled down from your eyes. “I know you’re gonna have a comeback soon, so I feel like the only right way for us is to—”

Your lips were caught in a kiss that was initiated by Ryujin. You were unable to finish your sentence, but it doesn’t matter anymore. All you can think about was the softness of her lips, the sweet scent of her fragrance, and the faint sound of her heartbeat. The kiss lasted for mere seconds but even so, the euphoric feeling was enough to make you desire for more.

Ryujin wiped off the tears that continuously fell down your cheeks. “Oppa, listen. Yes, it’s true that I am much busier than you. But, every time I enter this apartment, every time I see this face, and every precious time that I spend with you, my mind is at a better place. There’s not a single day where I don’t think about you. I feel safe in your arms and your arms alone. I can never get sick of you.”

She then began to choke on her words. “I don’t mind comforting and pampering you whenever you’re having a bad day. Whenever you’re happy, I’m happy too. So I always try my hardest to cheer you up. Because…” Ryujin hugged onto your arm. “You mean so much to me.”

As her words registered in your brain, she lunged you into another loving hug and began crying on your shoulder. Her body heaved while she repeated the words ‘I love you’ and ‘Don’t leave me’ in your ear. Witnessing your girlfriend getting emotional right in front of you broke your heart, but at the same time healed you. You finally know why she's the chosen one that has been blessed into your life.

You wrapped your arms around her figure. "Thank you, Ryujin. Thank you for being here with me."

[amarimaryllis]

Sleep-Deprived (Daichi x Reader)

Pairing: Daichi/Reader Prompt/Summary: Daichi overhears you spilling all your feelings about him to Kiyoko. Tags: Fluff Note: I used she/her pronouns for the reader, Extremely self-indulgent (made this fic just to scream over Daichi) Warnings: Mild swearing, Slight mentions of insecurity

You had a lot of terrible ideas, and pulling an all-nighter just to study for an exam is one of them. It isn’t exactly the worst idea you could muster from three working brain cells, but it’s still terrible. Honestly speaking, it would’ve been fine. It seriously would’ve been fine if you didn’t open your mouth. It was one of the few effects that sleep deprivation had on you: losing whatever filter you had. Words slur from your mouth in your sleepy state, and it never passes through your brain for approval or disapproval. It just goes straight out of your mouth.

It was a team effort though. If only your lovely friend, Shimizu Kiyoko, had not talked you up when you were drunk on the lack of sleep, then maybe you wouldn’t be stuck in your current predicament.

“Y/N?” Kiyoko lightly tapped you on the shoulder, your sleeping form sprawled out on your desk as you try to squeeze in a few minutes of sleep before class starts. “How much sleep did you get last night?”

You shift your head, turning to look at your friend with droopy eyes. “Around“, your yawn interrupts you mid-sentence, “an hour?”

Kiyoko sighs as she pulls her pens out of her bag and arranges them neatly on her desk. “Why did you stay up so late? It’s not like we have a quiz today.”

Your eyes shoot open, a dark look in your eyes as you look at Kiyoko. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah?” Kiyoko looks at you, her eyebrows furrowed as she tries to make sense of what you’re trying to say. “Did you think we have a quiz today?”

You shot up straight in your seat, feeling slightly betrayed as you thought back to a certain grey-haired setter’s words.

‘I heard that Takahashi-sensei is giving a surprise quiz tomorrow.’

You move back to sleep on your desk, mumbling insults lowly as you shut your eyes. “Sugawara told me that we had a quiz in Math.”

Kiyoko stifled her amusement, not wanting to add insult to your injury. “You actually believed him?”

“Yes.” You answered curtly before proceeding to grumble as you shifted to find a comfortable position. “Evil monster. How could he do that to me?”

“Well-“

Kiyoko is interrupted as her phone buzzes. She grins a little as she looks from the message on her phone to the female hunched over the desk. “Sawamura’s asking if I have notes from Takahashi-sensei’s recent lecture.”

Y/N, despite her sleepy state, makes an effort to play it off coolly. Her eyes remain shut as she mumbles out in reply to Kiyoko. “And?”

“Didn’t you study for math last night?” Kiyoko states as she replies to Daichi’s text with a ‘No, but Y/N has. You can borrow hers.’

You nodded as you tried to calm the racing of your heart. Just hearing Daichi’s name had you feeling all sorts of giddy.

“I told Sawamura he could borrow your notes.” Kiyoko held back a small smile as a plan formulated in her head. One where it would end with her two friends together.

If it was even possible, your heart started racing even faster. Daichi? Early in the morning? You were so happy and nervous at the thought of seeing him that you couldn’t stop your mouth from running. “Oh, he can borrow more than just my notes.”

“Why don’t you just confess?” Kiyoko asks you in a straightforward manner as she opens up her notebook. The girl had known both for three years already, and in those three years, they’ve been doing nothing but dance around their feelings.

At that same moment, someone walks into your classroom. “Kiyoko, where’s Y/N-“

However, neither you nor Kiyoko notices the newcomer, stuck in your little bubble.

You sat up at Kiyoko’s question and went into your rant before you could even worry about who could hear you. “Daichi’s just so perfect? What does someone like me have to offer him? He’s strong, reliable, sporty, smart, and it doesn’t help that he’s really attractive. Sometimes I just wanna go to his mom and say ‘Thank you, ma’am, for giving birth to this god amongst men’. I’m so whipped it’s pathetic!” You huff as you turn to look at Kiyoko. “Like who even gave Sawamura Daichi the right to be this damn fine-“

Your words stop short as you notice the figure standing a few meters behind Kiyoko. “Oh shit. Am I dreaming?”

Daichi stood a few meters away, a blush on his cheeks as he looked to the side and rubbed the back of his neck.

All color drains from your face as the situation hits you like a brick chucked by a world-renowned pitcher. You had just poured your feelings out about your crush and said crush just had to overhear it.

Kiyoko looks at you weirdly before asking. “What’s wrong?”

You’re unable to reply, just staring at Daichi who looked like he didn’t know what to say either.

Kiyoko follows your gaze and turns her head around, and she stiffens in her seat. “Sawamura, you’re here.”

Daichi gulps, his Adam’s apple moving visibly. “Yeah.”

Kiyoko stands up without a word and walks out of the classroom, and you can only gape after her.

“Traitor.” You mumble under your breath as you slam your forehead on the desk with a light thud.

A million thoughts are running through your head. Your brain is working faster than it ever did before, and you’re kind of bitter at how it only works this fast now and not when you actually need it to function. What would happen to you? Daichi probably thinks you’re weird now. Anyone would be weirded out at the thought of your mother receiving thanks for birthing you, right? What if Daichi is so disgusted with you and he just goes away? Worse, what if Suga finds out and never lets you hear the end of it? Oh, the constant torment from him would be so bad that you’d never go to school. Your education would be at risk! All this because you couldn’t keep your mouth shut.

You were internally screaming, and it was so loud that you didn’t notice Daichi moving to sit in the spot that Kiyoko was in just a few seconds ago before she betrayed you and left you with Daichi right after you made a fool of yourself. You wanted to run away so badly, but you were just frozen on the spot. You could only clench your fists on your lap and squeeze your eyes tightly and hope that Daichi walks away.

The chair screeches loudly as Daichi pulls the chair he was sitting closer to your desk.

You could feel your heart beating even faster because you could sense how close Daichi was, and damn was he real close. As you clench your fists tighter, you could only wish that the floor beneath you opens up and lets the earth swallow you whole.

Warmth spreads through your wrist as a calloused hand encircles it. “Ease up on the grip, you might hurt yourself.”

You turn your head and look at where Daichi is holding you. You couldn’t even look him in the eye as he unfurls your fingers slowly. You relax your hands but the rest of your body is tense, unable to comprehend the situation. Your eyes grow wide as you watch Daichi gently bring your hand to press on his chest right above where his heart is.

His heart is beating really fast, you noted.

You sat up straight and just stared at Daichi, not knowing what to say or do as he gazes at you intensely.

“Can you feel how fast my heart is beating?” Daichi asks as he stares into your eyes as if he was searching for something.

You could only nod in reply, unable to trust your voice in fear that it may come out shaky. Your mind was blank. You couldn’t think of anything. All coherent thoughts were consumed by Daichi’s presence and the feeling of his hand around your wrist.

“Do you know why?” Daichi asked softly as his thumb gently stroked the back of your hand that was on his chest (MAN WAS THAT MAKING YOU FEEL ALL SORTS OF THINGS).

Once again, you were filterless. Even embarrassment was not enough to sober you up. “You’re afraid of me cause you probably think I’m weird after overhearing the things I said-“

Daichi shuts you up by moving the hand that was your wrist to your forearm and tugging you to him before he gently presses his lips against yours to shut you up.

Your eyes were wide.

Nothing was sinking in.

Except it kind of is sinking in.

His lips were soft against yours, a stark contrast to the feeling of his calloused hand that had moved to cup your cheek. You could only close your eyes, melt into his touch, and wish that this moment never ends. Your heart was beating so fast and your body felt so warm as Daichi continued to move his lips against yours.

Daichi pulls away first, his hand still on the side of your face as he strokes your cheek. “If it helps, I’m considering going to your house and personally thanking your mom for giving birth to you.”

Your cheeks heat up in embarrassment as you look away from Daichi. Daichi doesn’t let you and grabs your chin lightly to make you look at him.

You were so tempted to faint then and there as Daichi gazes into your eyes warmly, a smile gracing his lips as he moves to speak. “This isn’t exactly how I planned to confess, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Shock. Just pure shock. It was written all over your face. Sure, he kissed you, but there are times where you’re pretty damn dense where you needed things to be spelt out for you in glowing neon letters. Hearing your crush confess to you had you feeling all sorts of happy, nervous, and doubtful.

“Y/N.” The way he said your name made you want to melt into a puddle right there. “I really like you. Will you go out with me?”

“Yes.” You grinned widely as you lunged towards Daichi and wrapped your arms around his neck. You still couldn’t believe it, but you sure as hell weren’t about to let this moment fly by you. If this was a dream, then you can only wish that it would never end.

Daichi smiled as he wrapped his arms around your waist tightly but gently, not wanting to let go of you now that he has you in his arms, something he had only dreamt about before overhearing your conversation with Kiyoko.

Deep in your mind, you thanked Sugawara. If he didn’t give you false information that led to you pulling an all-nighter, you wouldn’t have blurted out your feelings like an idiot, and you would have never gained this opportunity with your longtime crush.

A/N: Another old fic, phew. This one was the first Haikyuu fanfic I ever made, so it’s not that polished, but I still do like it. Anyway, I hope you guys enjoyed this one!

[eredins-a-king-aint-he]

@witcher-rarepair-summer-bingo​ fill for “hiding in the same hiding spot”


Out of the Frying Pan and Into the Viper’s Hands


Relationship: Lambert/Letho z Gulety | Letho of Gulet 


Rating: E (Explicit)
Content warnings: Explicit Sexual Content, Smut, Finger Sucking, Semi-Public Hand Job, Dirty Talk, Frottage


Summary: Lambert needs a place to hide, but finds that the nearest spot is already taken. 
Fic on Ao3

      “Get back here, you fucker!” 

      At the sound of the yell, Lambert is already on his feet and running. He had hoped that visiting a bar all the way across the city would help him avoid the owner of that particular voice, but it seems that luck is not with him today. It usually isn’t. His one blessing is that he’s fast.

      He’s out of the bar and around the corner in the blink of an eye. If he’d had his friends with him, he might’ve tried to make a stand, but he’d come out alone, and if he wasn’t careful he might end up in the gutter alone. He makes a quick turn, then sprints down the street and makes another. It’s late enough that the streets are fairly empty, which is another stroke of bad luck.

      I guess I’ll have to find somewhere to hide, he thinks, his lungs beginning to burn. A moment later, he spots a dingy alleyway.

     Good enough. He jogs between the buildings, his mind whirring. It’s definitely not the best place to hide, there’s nothing but a few dumpsters—

      A hand, an enormous hand, shoots out from behind the dumpsters and grabs him, dragging him swiftly down behind the big plastic cans. He opens his mouth to yell, but another large hand clamps over his face, barely leaving his nose uncovered so he can breathe. When he tries to struggle in his weirdly crouched position, his captor pulls him back between large thighs and against a huge, very warm body.

      “Shut up,” a deep, gravelly voice whispers, “or we’re both gonna be in trouble.”

      Lambert freezes. He recognizes the voice. In his memory, it belongs to an acquaintance of one of his friends, a goliath of a man who never seemed to talk much. 

      The hand over his mouth doesn’t relax when he stops fighting it, nor does the arm holding him against the other man’s front, in fact they tighten. He is completely immobile, settled between a pair of meaty thighs and pressed tight to the solid heat behind him, and—

      Fucking hell, not now—

      But of course his stupid body doesn’t care how badly he might get the shit kicked out of him if those men find him, it has a mind of its own. Being held like this, a hand over his mouth, an arm wrapped tightly around his middle, pinning his arms to his sides, it does something to him. Heat spreads through him, rising up his neck into his cheeks and sinking into his lower belly. His legs begin to tremble, threatening to let him drop onto the concrete below.

      Hot breath gusts against his ear, and he barely manages to hold back a moan, wiggling slightly against the grip around his waist.

      “Shh,” his captor hisses. “They’re still close.”

      A moment later, Lambert hears voices pass by. They seem to pause for a moment, then they move away, and the only noise that remains is the frantic thumping of his own heart in his ears. His body is thrumming with adrenaline and arousal, drawn as tight as a wire. He’s also hard as a rock.

      After another minute, the man holding him loosens the hand over the lower half of Lambert's face.

      “Lambert, right?” he growls. “Seen you with Geralt and Eskel sometimes. Figured I should help out when you ran up like a little bunny rabbit, lookin’ all scared.”

      Lambert opens his mouth to reply, but a soft gasp escapes his lips instead. Heat floods his face, this time from embarrassment. 

      “I wasn’t fucking scared,” he snarls quietly, keeping his voice soft in case his pursuers decide to return. “I was just looking for a place to squat so I could wait them out, but I didn’t realize this spot was fucking taken.”

      The man behind him chuckles, and fuck if it doesn’t feel good to have the sound roll through his body like a wave. Lambert bites his lip. He wonders whether or not he should mention that the man— Letho, he suddenly remembers— is still holding him, one arm wrapped around his waist. Letho seems to be thinking the same thing, as he says,

      “Surprised you haven’t pushed me off yet.”

      His mouth is still barely inches away from the back of Lambert’s neck, and his breath sends goosebumps across Lambert’s skin.

      “My legs are asleep,” Lambert retorts, blushing. “I don’t wanna pitch forward into the dumpsters and wake the entire damn neighborhood.”

      In this position, nestled firmly between the big man’s thighs, Lambert suddenly notices that he can feel something hard pressing against his ass.

      Fucking hell, he thinks wildly. He’s into it too. …This is a terrible idea. 

      He shifts a little, trying to very subtly grind against the hard length behind him, and he hears the big man’s breath hitch. 

      “You doin’ that on purpose?”

      The growl is low and dangerous and right next to his ear and Lambert nearly moans out loud. 

      “What if I am?” he manages between clenched teeth. His cock is straining against his jeans at this point, aching to be let free. 

      “If you aren’t, gonna help you up,” Letho says softly. “If you are…” 

      “Yeah? Then fucking what? What are you gonna do?”

      The aggression of the challenge is diminished by the fact that Lambert is nearly panting now, desperate to either be touched or to quickly find a place where he can touch himself. The arm around his waist tenses.

      “If you are, we might as well do somethin’ about it,” is the slow reply. “How about you give me a good old-fashioned go ahead instead of makin’ me guess.” 

      Lambert groans.

      “Fucking… Yes,” he finally grunts.

      “That’s a good little bunny,” Letho murmurs into his ear, and Lambert melts. The grip on his waist loosens, then huge hands are deftly undoing his belt and his fly. When a warm, soft palm finally wraps around his aching cock, Lambert is ready to explode.

      “Guess you like bein’ held and gagged,” Letho comments, and when Lambert takes a breath to make a snappy reply, the big man thrusts two thick fingers into his open mouth.

      “Quiet,” he says. “Or do you wanna be found like this?”

      Lambert tries to make an indignant noise, but the sound is depressingly muffled, so he closes his lips around the fingers instead. Determined to not be completely beaten, he begins to suck, using his tongue against the sensitive undersides of the fingers, and is rewarded with a soft growl beside his ear. The fingers pull out of his mouth.

      “Spit,” is the quiet command, and Lambert does as he’s told without thought, spitting into the offered hand. Seconds later the fingers slide back into his mouth as the other hand slicks against his erection. He moans.

      “More suckin’, less noise,” Letho grunts. “Show me what that foul mouth of yours can do.”

      That’s a challenge Lambert can get behind. The hand around his cock pumps slowly as he does his best to tease Letho into moving faster. It works, the grip around him tightening, the hand picking up speed. Pleasure starts to rush into his core with every stroke, pushing him closer and closer to the edge. His breath begins to burn in his chest, light sparking behind his eyes. His legs tremble.

      “You gonna cum?” 

      He nods frantically, feeling his muscles tightening like a spring, then Letho’s hand clamps over his mouth again.

      “You strike me as a screamer,” Letho murmurs into his ear. “Let’s not wake up the ‘entire damn neighborhood.’”

      He’s right, but Lambert would never willingly admit it. Instead he lets go, surrendering to release with a muffled cry, his body shaking with the force of the climax. Letho waits for him to ride the wave to completion, then slowly uncovers his mouth.

      “Hot,” the big man says. Panting, Lambert leans back against the solid warmth for a moment, then reaches down and shoves his sticky, softening cock back into his pants. 

      “Want a drink?” he manages between breaths. “Might as well thank you for— Uh, yeah. Everything.”

      Letho chuckles.

      “Wouldn’t mind, little bunny. Watching you cum like that made me thirsty.”

      The words make Lambert shiver, and he tries to stand up. 

      “I’m stuck,” he finally admits, then suddenly he’s rising into the air, a hand under each armpit. 

      “Let’s go,” Letho says, sounding amused. “Lead the way.”

      Though his legs are a little unsteady, Lambert can still walk, so he heads toward the street and steps out into the open.

      “There he is!”

       Lambert whips around and sees two men advancing on him. His muscles twitch, ready to spring into action, but then someone walks up behind him, casting a much longer shadow than his.

      “Ah,” Letho says. “How’d you manage to piss these guys off?”

      “Long story,” Lambert replies. 

      The two men had frozen when Letho appeared. They seem to be debating whether or not they should back down, then one of them steps forward.

      “Boss says you gotta pay,” he snarls at Lambert. “Don’t care if you’ve found yourself a meat shield in the dumpsters.” 

      Lambert begins to make a snarky retort, but Letho is quicker. He moves so fast Lambert can hardly follow what is happening, and a moment later the man who had spoken is lying flat on his back on the sidewalk, out cold, while his companion sprints away.

      “Now that,” Lambert says, “is hot. Come on, let’s get out of here before they find backup.”

      He begins to jog off in the other direction, and Letho catches up to him easily. 

      “They’ll be after you too, now,” Lambert says conversationally. “And they’re fucking persistent.”

      “Me and my boys will take care of them,” Letho replies, sounding completely unconcerned. Casting a sideways glance at him as they jog, Lambert gets a better look than he had before in the darkness of the alley. 

      He looks like someone I would not want to fuck with, Lambert decides. Those tattoos must have cost him a fortune. How have I never noticed them before?

      Dark designs cover the entirety of the man’s hands and arms, as well as the bare skin of his neck. Lambert finds himself distractedly wondering where else the man has ink, and he nearly trips. A hand closes around his arm like an iron shackle, steadying him.

      “Careful there, bunny,” Letho says with a grin. “Wouldn’t want you getting too friendly with the sidewalk.”

      The grip around his bicep is very distracting. 

      “I don’t plan to get too friendly with anything,” Lambert says irritably. “Not unless you wanna help me get real friendly with a wall.”

      “You askin’ me what I think you’re askin’ me?”

      “I might be.”

      And suddenly Lambert finds himself crushed face-first against the nearby wall, gently enough so it doesn’t hurt him but swiftly enough to leave him breathless. Letho’s body holds him firmly against the bricks, hot and huge and—

      Fuck, Lambert thinks, his mind swamped with arousal. He’s not used to feeling so small. Something thick and hard presses tantalizingly against his ass.

      “Reconsiderin’ that drink offer yet?” Letho asks. 

      “Absolutely fucking not,” Lambert wheezes. “The only thing I’m reconsidering is not asking you to come back to my place and fuck me into oblivion first.”

      Letho’s laugh shakes them both and fucking hell Lambert wants him right here, right now.

      “I’d settle for the nearest bush at this point,” he manages. Hands grip his waist and Letho moves against him, rolling his hips, his erection rubbing against Lambert’s ass.

      “Let’s get that drink first,” he growls, his breath tickling the back of Lambert’s neck. “It’ll be fun to watch you wiggle for an hour or two. Plus, I usually like to get to know someone just a little first.”

      “Grabbing and hauling me behind some dumpsters isn’t exactly getting to know me,” Lambert says with a snort. Breath gusts over his ear, then lips press against the side of his neck.

      “You’re an exception, bunny. …Plus, Geralt and Eskel have talked about you enough, it almost feels like I know you. Still wouldn’t mind that drink, though.”

      Shivers roll over Lambert’s skin at the sound of that deep voice so close to his ear. Shoved flush against the wall like this, every tiny movement creates delicious friction against his growing hard-on. 

      “Let’s get that drink, then,” he grunts, “or I might cum again right here.”

      Letho steps back, allowing Lambert to peel himself off the wall. After a moment of reorientation, Lambert sets off down the street, Letho a step behind him.

      “There’s a place nearby that I’ve been to before,” he says. “It should be safe from those assholes… at least I think so.”

      “No ones gonna bother you if I’m here,” Letho replies. 

      “They better not. I have a very packed schedule for tonight now, as long as having a drink with me doesn’t put you off.”

      “Won’t.”

      “Don’t be so sure,” Lambert says with a grimace. Letho snorts with amusement. 

      “Judgin’ by our encounter behind those dumpsters, I think we’ll get along real well, bunny.”

     A little thrill of heat runs through Lambert every time he hears Letho’s deep voice saying that stupid, embarrassing nickname. If it was anyone else, he would’ve punched them, but—

      “I fucking hope so,” he says. “And for fucks sake, don’t call me that again until we’re someplace where I can suck your dick about it.”

~~~

      A ray of sunlight wakes Lambert the next morning by falling across his face. He cracks an eyelid, and doesn’t recognize the room he’s in. For a brief moment, he panics, then he remembers. Thick arms tighten around his middle. Lips press against the base of his neck.

      “Mornin’,” a deep voice rumbles in his ear. He hadn’t thought that voice could get any sexier. Well, he had been wrong.

      “Didn’t think you were the type to stick around,” Letho continues. “Thought you were gonna scamper away as soon as I was done with you.”

      “I don’t even remember falling asleep,” Lambert admits, feeling heat creep into his cheeks. “I guess you wore me out.”

      His body shakes with Letho’s chuckle.

      “Good.”

      Lips ghost against the back of his neck again, and the touch reminds Lambert of something he had been meaning to ask the night before. He wiggles, squirms, and manages to roll himself over in Letho’s hold.

      “Who were you hiding from last night?” he demands. “I completely forgot to ask. Who the fuck could make you want to hide in an alleyway?”

     Letho blinks slowly.

     “My friends,” he says after a moment. “They were tryin’ to make me go on a blind date, and wouldn’t take no for an answer. So, I took a walk.”

      “A walk?”

      “Yeah, an evasive one. Not a fan of blind dates, at least the kind you have in a restaurant or some shit. Didn’t mind the one we had, though.”

      “Dunno if I’d call that a blind date,” Lambert mutters. 

      “Doesn’t matter what you call it. It was hot.”

      Grinning, Lambert slings an arm around the big man’s neck.

      “It was. Anyway, how about we have another go, then we get breakfast somewhere, my treat.”

      A quick scramble later and Lambert finds himself rolled over again, a huge hand clamped firmly over his mouth, the other holding him tight against Letho’s body. Teeth close gently around the shell of his ear, then a tongue slides against the surprisingly sensitive skin. Heat pours down his throat.

      “That sounds like a plan,” Letho growls. “Now, be a good little bunny and beg for my cock like you did last night.”

~~~

      Lambert takes a long drink from his glass. He’s been trying to keep the events of the past few weeks under wraps as best he can, but he forgot to wear something to cover the bite marks on his neck tonight, and he can practically feel the marks burning under his friends’ scrutiny. 

      “Nice necklace,” Eskel comments, indicating what he means with a free hand. “Didn't realize you liked wearing jewelry.”

      “Oh, I saw that too,” Geralt adds. “Very fancy.”

      “Fuck off,” Lambert mutters into his beer. His friends guffaw. 

      “Who do you think is the culprit?” Geralt asks the man next to him, who happens to be Geralt’s boss. The man stirs from his contemplation of a wine glass, blinks once, then smiles a close-lipped smile. Lambert belatedly remembers that this man is also heavily tattooed, just like—

      “You know,” the man says in a soft voice, “usually I wouldn’t have an answer for you, but I did recently overhear a friend referring to Lambert here as ‘bunny’ and I couldn’t help but wonder…”

      A hot flush rises into Lambert’s face as Eskel and Geralt howl with laughter, then begin pelting the man with questions. When he refuses to elaborate, they turn back to Lambert.

      “Who is it?” they chorus in unison.

      Lambert takes a drink of his beer instead of giving them an answer, and finds an excuse to leave as fast as possible. He has somewhere to be, anyway.

[bard-llama]

Thronebreaker homophobia headcanon?

Me: why would I add homophobia to my fantasy when I don’t have to? Also me: wow, there would be SO much angst potential in this!

As it says in the title, this headcanon has a LOT of homophobia, so don’t engage if that’s not something you can deal with rn. Also, to be clear: most of the continent is chill with homosexuality, and Rivia’s neighbors mostly view them as backwards. But like, this is feudalism. Human rights are pretty low on the agenda for any ruler, so they don’t much care.

Anyway uh... Rivia is now very historically homophobic and when King Reginald and Queen Meve married, it became law in Lyria too. Unlike Reginald, Meve isn’t actively homophobic - hell, she even encourages Reynard to bone Gascon - but she also isn’t aware enough of the impact of those laws to repeal them.

And then she gets betrayed and Nilfgaard takes over and they change the laws, because the Empire is fucking awful, but progressive in a few surface ways (you can marry anyone! And now you and your spouse can BOTH get drafted into the army and go die in the swamps of Velen!). 

After she gets Lyria back, Meve is gonna have to deal with that, but that’s a whole other story. For now, what I’m thinking is that Reynard has known since he was young that he had interest in other knights and that that interest was unacceptable. So he always hid part of himself, especially once he entered the King’s service (and really learned to keep his mouth shut). 

Problem is, Reginald himself has a LOT of internalized homophobia going on. And... okay, we don’t get a lot about him in canon beyond him being kinda dumb, but good at seeing cleverness in others and utilizing it. And also responding with overwhelming force when a threat emerges (like the Brossard family). 

So like, Reynard is in his early 20s and is serving as aide and advisor to the King. But King Reginald notices the way he watches other men and definitely projects some shit on Reynard. But he approaches it like he’s a concerned friend. Like, “you know you can never act on such things. Someone will find out and I will be forced to punish you.”

It’s always warnings - “oh, don’t do that, what if someone sees?” and “you fool, if you do that again, I will be forced to punish you” or some such. And Reynard doesn’t really understand what he’s done wrong, because he DOES try to follow the rules, but he always works to adjust his behavior anyway, because he knows his King doesn’t WANT to punish him. But if he’s forced to...

(TW for violence and serious homophobia)

Not sure what drives things to a breaking point - maybe Reginald gets jealous at spotting Reynard “flirting” with some foreign knight or dignitary or something??? - but the lesson Reginald teaches is one Reynard will never forget. Because he doesn’t know what he did wrong, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t deserve punishment, especially when it’s the King carrying it out, because his King is just... right? (wrong)

The official sentence for homosexuality is flogging, castration, and execution, but Reginald says something like that because it’s Reynard, he’s worked hard to lighten the sentence or some such. Like, he makes it clear that Reynard is getting off easy when Reginald simply has him whipped nearly to death. 

Reynard doesn’t die - but it’s a close call, especially when some of the wounds get infected and he doesn’t get them treated the way he should, because he deserved this punishment. His King had said so. So it’s important that he returns to work and serves his King as best as he can, even though he’s a disgusting deviant.

I think he probably collapses at some point and Reginald deigns to send him to the royal medics and they save his life, but he’s out of commission for a good while, because he got whipped extensively and then infection took hold.

But when he finally returns to work, Reginald is just kinda like, “where have you been!? Work has piled up without you, get to it!” and never talks about the punishment he metted out.

But as years go on, it becomes a warning. If Reginald’s skewed vision sees Reynard getting too close to other men, he’ll call Reynard to him and touch the small of his back as a reminder. Like ‘don’t make me do this again’.

So Reynard folds pieces of himself up tight and tucks them away where they can never emerge. And while other knights are going around wooing women and getting married, Reynard is focusing on his work. It gets him a reputation - that’s he’s too stuck up for romance, maybe that he’s deviant because he ISN’T girl crazy, etc. The rumors are too bad, but they also never die, even as decades pass.

And then King Reginald of Rivia and Queen Meve of Lyria are married and their realms are merged - which makes homophobia the law throughout Lyria (and believe you me, a LOT of people are unhappy about this. but they have enough sense not to speak out, because royals are scary and homicidal). 

When Reynard first starts developing feelings for Meve, he’s actually almost relieved. Because if he can feel this way for a woman, then maybe he isn’t broken, isn’t a complete deviant. He’d still never make a move, though, because in addition to being married, Meve is Queen. And his experience with Reginald has taught him that you should always keep your private life (what exists of it) out of view of royalty. 

But I think for a while, he has hope. And then Reginald dies and he HATES that he’s relieved, but he is. And there are people who hope that Meve will repeal Rivia’s homophobic laws, but in honesty, it’s not even on her radar as something to deal with. Meanwhile, there’s 10 billion other things to deal with - and so she never gets around to it. She probably doesn’t enforce it - but that doesn’t mean that garrison commanders under her army don’t.

So Reynard serves Meve for 8 years, always keeping part of himself hidden out of sight. And he has never trusted anyone enough to reveal this part of him, so aside from rumors, the knowledge of his deviance died with Reginald.

Except then Meve is betrayed. And she never doubts Reynard’s loyalty and she’s right not to. But now they’re traveling as fugitives to try to make it to the Aedirnian border with the assistance of the fucking Duke of Dogs and his Strays of Spalla - aka criminals. (Though, technically, Reynard has no room to talk - and maybe he knows that. Maybe that’s part of why he’s kinda chill about serving alongside “deserters and bandits and peasants” whereas Meve feels like they’ve fallen low)

At first, Reynard HATES Gascon. He’s an obnoxious little shit who openly flirts with the queen - and even with HIM! Mostly just to get a rise out of him, he’s sure, but like, the audacity!! 

Except, weirdly, whenever Gascon smiles or laughs, Reynard’s heart goes doki doki and he doesn’t understand why. In the current fic I’m writing, Meve clues him in, but also triggers a downward spiral, because if Meve KNOWS he’s a deviant, then obviously he deserves to be punished again. Plus like... Gascon is a fucking baby. Reynard (and Meve a little bit) would DEFINITELY have mixed feelings about wanting someone less than half of their age. (Meanwhile, Gascon is just like ‘oh sweet, sugar daddy. Can we go kill people now?’)

Anyway, I don’t really know where this would go in different fics. In the one I’m writing right now, Reynard is expecting them to hurt him, because that’s what Reginald would do. Meanwhile Meve and Gascon are very confused and trying to figure out wtf is going on. But there will DEFINITELY be lots of comfort for Reynard.

I also want stuff like... idk, scar worship for the whip marks on his back and Gascon and Meve trying to help him heal, but idk exactly what that will look like.

tl;dr: this is definitely the backstory for at least 1 fic. But I’m torn on if I want to make it my canon backstory for Reynard/Thronebreaker. Because I do like writing escapist fantasy without homophobia, but also, I think this offers a lot of interesting things to explore, especially on the angst side of things.

If it IS canon for my Thronebreaker fics, then I promise that it would only be such for fics where it’s relevant/explored as a concept and not like, included in a PWP or something out of nowhere. I’ll always tag appropriately so you can choose how to engage, but... idk. I’m very torn.

Thoughts?

[tamsong]

pull you from the tide - keefitz

summary: in which fitz tries to hammer it into keefe’s head that he deserves to be loved. 

notes: this is half vent, half fix-it. this my first time writing fic for kotlc since i was like 13, so let me know what you guys think?

warnings: swearing, very vague references to homophobia and bad parents

***

keefe doesn’t come home.

a week passes, then two. a month. three. everything is weirdly silent on the neverseen front, despite sophie’s daring act of burning down the waterfall hideout. it feels like time is standing still- keefe’s absence hangs heavy in the air like ozone in the hour before it rains. 

fitz has barely spoken in those three months. in another world, he might’ve been angry like he usually is. in this world, though, no one’s around to be angry at, and fitz feels like his roots have been ripped out of the ground.

at the next black swan meeting, fitz quietly asks to speak to mr. forkle alone. the black swan leader nods resignedly, like he already knows what fitz is going to ask. sophie raises her eyebrows at him from across the room. i’ll tell you later, he transmits to her, but he doesn’t plan on it. sophie’s been hurt enough, and if she knows about this and it doesn’t work, she’ll be devastated.

mr. forkle walks him down the hall. he doesn’t say anythin

“i want to go look for him,” fitz says, trying to sound confident. but he’s anything but. he doesn’t feel like anything more than the desperate, frightened child that he is.

mr. forkle opens his mouth, but fitz cuts him off. “please,” he adds. “i... i don’t know what else to do. i know he said he doesn’t want to be found, but i- we can’t go on like this. i know the forbidden cities better than almost anyone, so i might as well try. please.”

“i can’t promise you’ll find anything, mr. vacker,” mr. forkle replies. “but if it’s really what you want, i can give you a leaping crystal.”

fitz sighs. “i know. trust me, i know. but if there’s any way i can get him back, i still want to go.”

the black swan leader nods in response. “very well. i’ll meet you at everglen tomorrow morning, and i’ll monitor you to ensure your safety. now, go on and meet your friends, and put this out of your mind for the rest of the day.”

he thanks mr. forkle profusely, then does as he’s told. only a few minutes after he leaves does fitz realize that his request was granted far too easily- mr. forkle, while certainly not a cruel man, expects him to fail. there would be a lot more lecturing and protocol if he didn’t.

fitz doesn’t blame him.

***

the next morning, fitz takes the blue crystal from mr. forkle, his hands trembling. he’s dressed in the same jacket, jeans, and boots from when he first found sophie. he thought the memories would be calming, but the sense of deja vu only unsettles him, really. on that pleasant thought, fitz holds the crystal up to the sunlight and steps into its path, holding his breath.

he arrives in an empty park, hidden between two trees. freezing rain is pouring down from the sky, a sharp contrast from the eternally pleasant weather at everglen. fitz shudders, puts his hands in his pockets, and steps out of his hiding place.

he roams the streets of san diego all afternoon and evening, ducking in and out of stores, cafes, and libraries, all of it to no sign of keefe. finally, when the sky is nearly dark and the rain has slowed to a drizzle, fitz stops in front of a building with sign reading san diego youth services. he shrugs and opens the door. it’s as good as anything, i guess.

“have you seen my friend?” he asks one of the staff in heavily accented english. “he’s tall and skinny, has blond hair and light blue eyes. about my age, doesn’t speak much english.” 

the woman squints and brushes her wet hair out of her eyes. “we had someone like that come in a couple months ago, and he comes here to sleep most nights. fidgety guy, looks sad all the time?” 

fitz pulls his jacket hood further up. “that's probably him, yes,” he answers, trying and failing to keep his voice steady. may i see him?” 

she nods. deep frown lines run down her face, like she’s seen too much tragedy in her short life. “sure. last i saw, he was out back.” 

the staff woman walks fitz through the building out to a secluded area adjacent to an alleyway, protected from the public eye. fitz doesn’t see anyone at first, but on second glance spots a flash of blond from further down the alley. he hurriedly thanks the woman and dashes over, heartbeat picking up. 

he skids to a stop when he sees keefe there, sitting on a step and dripping with rainwater. he looks up, startled, at the sound of fitz’s footsteps, and his mouth opens and closes in shock once he realizes who’s in front of him.

fitz expects a snarky comment, something like well look who we have here! or wow, guess i’m famous, but keefe says nothing. on one level, it’s terrifying, because fitz has rarely ever known his friend to be silent. on the other hand, though, he gets it. even without keefe’s strange new ability that makes speaking a risk, what else is there to be done in a situation like this? two years ago, they both would have laughed if told this would be their future.

they hover there for what feels like hours, neither boy knowing what to do.

finally, fitz breaks the quiet. “hi,” he says lamely, and then slaps himself mentally. really? is that the best you can give him? 

he tries again. “keefe. i...” no. that wouldn’t do either.

“you couldn’t even bother with a goodbye?” he finally bursts out, trying to muster up the anger he doesn’t feel. this isn’t the right way to approach it either, but fitz doesn’t know how else to communicate. “did you think i wouldn’t care? sophie’s not the only one who was fucking sad, you know. biana can barely do anything but cry. dex isn’t talking to anyone, and neither is linh. even tam- i know you guys never got along, but he wants you home just as much as the rest of us.”

he shakes his head. “i know this can’t be easy for you, but we want to help you. even if we can’t, then we can find someone who can.”

“i’m not even mad, really,” fitz continues, looking up at the sky. he can’t bring himself to make eye contact. “if you didn’t care to say goodbye to me, i get it. i haven’t exactly been best friend material lately, and i wouldn’t blame you for never wanting to speak to me. but i read what you wrote to sophie, and it’s the biggest bullshit i’ve ever heard. be happy? forget about you?” he scoffs. “do you even hear yourself? i- she- we could never do that. you’re giving yourself too much credit.”

he turns around, fists clenching so hard his nails cut through his skin. “so this is my goodbye, i guess. i meant to bring you home, but you deserve a choice after everything. stay away, if you must, just know that we- i care for you, keefe. you deserve to be cared about. and if you don’t come home... i’ll miss you. i want you to know that.”

fitz finally exhales. he’s said his piece, laid all his cards out on the table. it’s keefe’s move now, and fitz will respect it, even if it fucking kills him to do it.

“fitz.” keefe speaks for the first time since fitz arrived, his voice hoarse and miserable. fitz whips back around, searching for any sign in his best friend’s face that might signal a change of heart. 

“fitz,” keefe repeats. the expression he wears is downcast and resigned. “i want to come home, more than anything i’ve ever wanted. but i can’t. it’s not safe, not for you or anyone else.”

“then tell us how to make it safe,” fitz begs. his hands twitch, desperately wanting to reach out. “anything you ask. hell, we could even hide you in my closet at everglen like the time when we were little and your dad was coming to take you home.” 

keefe’s mouth twitches, and even if it’s not a whole smile, fitz counts it as a victory. “that’s... nice of you to say.”

fitz softens. “of course,” he replies, not hiding how choked up he is. “anytime.”

keefe taps his fingers against his thigh, looking down. after a long moment of silence that seems years long, he lifts his face and speaks again. “you’re not making this easy.” his eyes gleam with unshed tears. “maybe if you make it a little harder...”

fitz’s hands move of their own accord, resting on either side of keefe’s face. the other boy’s cheeks are warm despite the bitter, freezing rain.

fitz... actually has one more card he could play. it’s one he’s kept in his pocket since the middle of level three, never shared with anyone, not even with sophie. 

there’s never been a world in which revealing it would be acceptable, but maybe things are different now. more complicated and painful, yes, but if there’s even the slightest chance that this secret could bring keefe home, then he’s willing to accept that pain.

fitz lays his final card on the table.

he kneels in front of where keefe is sitting on the step, never breaking contact for a second. keefe’s wide eyes follow him as fitz lowers himself down, his expression open and vulnerable. fitz leans in close, but pauses just inches before his friend’s lips, giving keefe time to move, time to reject him and run away.

when keefe makes no effort to resist, fitz closes the distance and kisses him.

it’s a short, soft thing, the connection as fragile and fleeting as a candle flame in a windstorm. but to fitz, this kiss is everything. it’s a representation of his enduring care for keefe, the affection that sprouted when they were children and has only blossomed since. despite everything standing in their way, fitz has loved keefe and always will.

he just hopes it’ll be enough for keefe. 

fitz pulls away, not letting himself linger too long. he resists the urge to look away, instead gazing into keefe’s eyes and smiling gently. he’ll wait as long as it takes for keefe to make his move, and he’ll respect it. he just wants his friend to know the truth.

suddenly, keefe bursts into tears.

he throws himself forward, nearly knocking fitz over. he buries his face between fitz’s neck and shoulders, his body wracked with sobs. fitz hugs him back, running his fingers through his friend’s tangled hair. keefe cries and cries, holding tightly to fitz until his sobs fade to tremors and there’s a wet patch on fitz’s sweatshirt from his tears.

“okay,” keefe finally whispers, sending shivers down fitz’s spine. “i’ll take us home.” 

keefe shifts and moves his hand up between them to fitz’s shirt pocket where fitz always keeps his home crystal. he plucks the crystal out, scans the area, and raises it up to the last dim sunlight trickling through the rainclouds. 

fitz holds keefe close as the two boys dissolve into the light, leaving san diego behind.

[bisexualklausmikaelson]

maybe you were the ocean, when i was just a stone (6/?)

a/n: I can't believe I'm revamping this fic but I'm revamping this fic - it will be uploaded on ao3 as well, I will not be updating it on ffn.

-

xvi: we could open windows -

-

Klaus isn't one for love triangles - he's not even one for love.

He's counted less than a handful of times where he has allowed himself to feel close enough to someone outside of his siblings to even call it that.

At most, this was just an infatuation of sorts, it must be.

Because he just couldn't fathom liking the same girl as his younger brother.

"Nik," Kol releases, as soon as he sees him. "Where have you been?" He wonders, realizing how he hadn't seen his brother for quite a few hours.

Klaus stammers, being uncomfortable with the memory of his biological father and his offer to stay with him. "I had a few errands to run," he nervously says.

Errands? Kol thinks, unable to remember the last time Klaus had been this responsible about his chores.

He observes them both carefully - how well Kol is dressed and how pretty Hayley's dress is. "I take it you both just came back from dinner with mother and father," Klaus concludes.

Kol and Hayley share a look, feeling a bit awkward about the whole situation.

"Yes," Kol nods. "I was just about to ask Hayley how she was feeling about everything," he says, shyly.

Klaus places a finger on his chin, pondering. "That's strangely considerate of you," he realizes just how much his brother is changing in the short amount of time that he's known Hayley.

It's unexpected, but he feels a smidge of jealousy.

"Hayley," Kol goes on, interrupting Klaus' thoughts. The girl looks at him while playing with a strand of her hair. "Did our parents say or do anything to make you uncomfortable?" he asks.

She thinks back to Esther's kindness, how close she felt to her just in the short time she had known her. Hayley shakes her head.

"Really?" Klaus notes, wide-eyed. "That's...surprising," he sighs, turning to his younger brother.

Kol senses an even bigger change, one deep inside himself. "Perhaps," he shrugs. "They've actually taken a liking to her?" he wonders, meeting Klaus' gaze.

The other brother focuses his vision on Hayley - how close she stands next to Kol, how comfortable she seems around him. "Maybe so," Klaus notes. "I suppose stranger things have happened," he softly says, thinking of how easily these two seem to fit together.

And how quickly their charade seemed to have become reality.

-

The beach calls her name - like a love song.

Hayley is restless that night, rolling around in her bed, staring at the ceiling, sweating.

Being human is still strange - it's nice not being alone or exiled by her own kind, being accepted by a lively family, having siblings - sort of anyway. But it's still all so new.

"You're awake," Henrik pops out from under her bed and scares her.

She was so busy being stressed out by her thoughts, she didn't even notice him sneaking in.

"What's wrong? Have a nightmare?" Henrik asks again, as Hayley offers him a nod of the head. He hops into bed with her, looking a little sad. "I have trouble sleeping too, bad dreams are all too common in this house, I'm afraid," he sounds so broken, all of a sudden.

Hayley knows the Mikaelson household is a lot colder than people think - despite their riches, their fame, how close the siblings seem to be, there is still so much loneliness in everyone's eyes.

She appreciates how easily Henrik bonds with her though - she's never had a younger sibling before, though she's always wanted one.

"Henrik," Cami bursts through the open door. "There you are, why are you out of bed?" she sings, joining the two.

Hayley motions for Cami to hop in but patting her hand on the sheets. She slips in beside Henrik, wrapping an arm around him.

"Cami," he whispers, "I didn't know you were still here," he adds.

"Rebekah asked me to spend the night - I'm just staying in her room," she continues. "I came out because I heard all the ruckus this little one was making," she smiles, teasing Henrik.

Hayley appreciates both their warmth - it can be quite scary sleeping in this big room, all by herself.

"I've always found this house so eerily quiet at night, you know?" Cami suddenly says.

Henrik looks at Hayley who also looks a bit scared. "We agree," he grins.

And that's the thing about the Mikaelson mansion, from the outside, it looks like this perfect palace - and once you're inside, you realize it's just feels so haunting.

(The three of them hold hands, walking together towards the balcony. They sit there for a bit, just looking out towards the beach.

"The water looks so calm tonight," Henrik comments.

"It's so strange isn't it?" Cami tells them. "Just the other day, it was raging on like a storm, now it's like a summer sea," she realizes.

Hayley looks there too, remembers her old home - the deep blue ocean, the fishes, the coral and seaweed.

Sometimes, she feels like it never really existed.

"I wonder what it's like," Henrik quips. "Way out there," he exhales, thinking more and more about the vast waters before them.

"I do too," Cami agrees - noticing how disconnected Hayley seems.

Almost as if she's been there before).

-

-

-

xvii: fix the fridge light and replace the phone

-

The sun invades Rebekah's room like an invited guest.

She finds a note on her bed, carefully written.

Such pretty hand-writing, she knows it's Cami's - so delicate and careful. Somehow, it almost makes her angrier about her early departure.

The fact that it's just so beautiful.

(Hey Rebekah, I know I know - you hate me right now but, before you send me an angry text I'll never get, just hear me out. I left something for you under your pillow, it's something I brought back from my last research trip, I hope you think of me when you wear it.

Rebekah holds back her tongue - she knows how important Cami's research is and how much value it has.

She shoves her hand under her pillow and finds a gorgeous piece of seaglass strung across a chain. It's green mixed with a bit of yellow - like Cami's eyes).

"Sister," Klaus walks in to her room with a shiny tray of freshly made pancakes, syrup, whip cream, strawberries and a warm cup of coffee. "I've brought you breakfast," he says, taking weird looks around her room.

Rebekah raises a brow as she takes the hot drink in hand. "What brings about such kindness, dear brother?" she laments.

Klaus keeps avoiding her eyes. "Can't you just thank me?" he offers.

She notices how disappointed he looks and connect the dots quite easily. This food wasn't intentionally made for her, after all. "If you're looking for Hayley," she concludes. "She woke up quite early and already had breakfast with Henrik and Kol," Rebekah tells him, recalling hearing their voices while she was half asleep, shortly after Cami had already left.

"Kol? Waking up early?" Klaus retorts. "I never thought I'd see the day," he huffs, with his hands on his hips.

His sister smiles as she starts digging in to the pancakes. "He's a changed man," she comments."Hmm, these pancakes are to die for, Nik!" She cheers, smiling.

Klaus feels that tinge of jealousy he felt earlier suddenly grow bigger. "Glad you like them," he quietly says, attempting to hide his real emotions.

-

Kol spends more and more time with Hayley.

He doesn't like to think that he's gotten close to her or that, somehow, she gets under his skin - it's just that, he needs to make this whole she's his girlfriend act convincing, you know? Whether that means having meals together, standing a bit closer to her than he usually does, even maybe looking deep into her eyes -

The truth is, he just really likes being around her.

She waves to Henrik as he runs off to play with some other kids he spots by the beach.

"He's very fond of you," Kol observes. "My little brother, I mean, he's usually quite shy around anyone but our family. I suppose you're part of ours now," he babbles on and he almost bites his tongue.

God, what the hell was he saying right now? He sounded like a fool - calling her his family, really? He's only known her for a little over a month!

What was wrong with him?

"Would you like to go for a swim with me?" Kol requests instead, trying to change the subject and how flustered he felt at the moment.

She offers him a bright smile, running head first into the water.

He feels a continuing flutter in his heart as he watches her shiver from the coldness of the water. Right, it was November after all - maybe not the best time for a swim but, she almost seemed like she was weirdly used to it.

Hayley warms up quickly and swishes around the water almost as if it's part of her.

"You're quite the talented swimmer, my darling," Kol compliments, joining her.

The water pushes them closer and closer to each other and his hand instinctively grazes against her cheek - her hair is wet and covering her eyes but, she can see just enough to understand that he's going for it.

He wants to kiss her.

"KOLLLL!!!"

Just then, they hear Henrik's scream.

-

He's afraid of water, Kol whispers, as he and Hayley swim towards him. "I'm such an idiot," he curses himself, swimming quicker. "I should've kept a better eye on him," he shouts, seeing the top of his brother's head peeking out of the waves.

Hayley swims faster than him, getting to Henrik first and lifting him up from his waist. She gives him a look, indicating that he was safe now, she was here, after all.

"Henrik!" Kol scolds, when he catches up to them. "What were you thinking? You know you could've drowned!" he shakes him back and forth, worriedly.

Hayley takes him back to the shore, covering him in a dry towel.

"I'm sorry brother," Henrik replies to Kol. "I just thought I could finally face my fear, ever since the incident that happened to Nik I -"

Kol furrows his brow - he remembers that day too, when Klaus almost drowned to death, how he was saved by some miracle. Or a mermaid, which is what Henrik claims.

He hates how his little brother still blames himself for that incident.

"Do you know how much you scared me?" Kol responds, still with a stressed out tone. Hayley is taken aback, she's never seen Kol like this. "Promise me you'll never go to the water alone, ever again?" He tells him

"But Kol -"

"Promise me!"

Henrik bites his lip, he looks at Hayley who also seemed worried about his well-being. "I-" he starts. "I promise," he finally agrees as a sense of relief washes over Kol's face.

Hayley is touched by how close both the youngest Mikaelson brothers seem to be.

-

-

-

xviii: maybe it will fix us if we spend our lives on country roads

-

Klaus' balcony is filled with his old paintings. He barely uses the space there for anything else but, it does offer him a good view of the beach. He pushes the painting aside, making his way towards the edge. He notices Hayley, Kol and Henrik right away. He keeps an eye on them.

He shouldn't feel this way, he shouldn't be so angry at the fact that they're friends. At the fact that their parents accept them.

At the fact that Mikael would never scold Kol for having a girl but Klaus, he's not even allowed to smile around him.

He feels frightened - Mikael's abuse scares him. He thinks of their fight, of the scar on his cheek, where Hayley had last touched him.

Mikael had mentioned how the scar had disappeared, he wonders how it happened so quickly.

Then.

Klaus' ringtone interrupts his thoughts.

Ansel.

He thinks about his offer once again.

Is leaving truly the best option for him? His family was his everything, he can't imagine living without Elijah's laugh, or Finn's smile, Kol's shenanigans, Rebekah's kindness, Henrik's clinginess, and now, Hayley's warmth -

He puts the idea to rest for now.

He goes back to staring at the beach.

-

[intothewickedwood]

Once Upon A Time Rewatch: 5x21 Last Rites

I can’t even remember the flashback for this episode, if there even was one. It probably should have been a Robin Hood flashback for his death to have made more of an impact. Because he’s literally just been pointing out really obvious things and nothing else for pretty much the whole season. 

Zelena worrying for her sister! I live for this!

How’d Arthur escape?

Yes, Hades much threatening holding a baby. Very scare. 

Oh dear.

When will they learn not to stop letting Sleepy guard things?! 

Sleepy: “Sleepy. I told you, it’s Walter.” That’s interesting that Sleepy doesn’t like to be called Sleepy and prefers Walter. The Dwarfs seemed so desperate to get back to their EF lives in season 2.

Snowing reunited! God, I missed those 2 together!

Finally, a grandma Snow hug! Haven’t had one of those in ages! 

Zelena’s like “and f**k you Regina! My boyfriend’s a God. How’s that for a happy thought?!”

Oh yeah. Forgot Arthur killed Hook the first time. Well, technically the second time? 

Arthur looks more like Hook’s brother than Liam or Liam II. Not to mention a closer accent. I feel like I read a fic or something where they were brothers somehow. Don’t get me wrong though, I prefer Liam. 

Okay, Hades was definitely manipulating Zelena here. He knew she wouldn't let him turn himself in, he just wanted to pretend he was willing to.

“The olympian crystal. Very powerful, very dangerous and I’ve waited a long time to use it.”

I’m sorry but that olympian crystal looks like a big old, jagged freaking- anyway back to the rewatch! 

Where was he keeping that giant dildo of death anyway? Do I even want to know??

Zelena does not look like she’s into it.

*sigh* why didn’t they just make Hades Robin Jr.’s father? I remember thinking and hoping he somehow was. 

Belle’s father refusing to wake Belle from the sleeping curse just to keep her away from Rumple. What the hell?! He’d just let her stay like that forever? Because we know people don’t age during sleeping curses and Rumple is immortal. Jeeeez! He does not respect her agency at all!

Oh my God! Hades was whipping Hook?!........ Dat’s kinky.

Cruella: “Oh, back up!....Seriously, back up.” The number of times I’ve referenced this xD! 

Oh my God guys, how can anyone get through that many books?! And its too many damn pages for any man to understand.

Your brother stopped your heart for a sparkly strap on? Wow, what a family.

I wonder how old Hades and the God’s are. Are they older/the same age as Gothel? According to Hades he’s been around for at least a few 1thousand years. Also, is Poseidon his brother too? Is Ursula his niece? That’s cool. I like that headcanon.

So according to one of Ouat’s wikis: ‘Kronos was originally the ruler of Mount Olympus, as well as the father of Zeus and Hades. Zeus was poised to become the next ruler after Kronos' reign ended, but this enraged Hades, who stole the olympian crystal and used it to obliterate Kronos. Zeus, however, defeated Hades and banished him to the Underworld.’ I must have missed that bit. And Poseidon is listed as Kronos’ son and Ursula his granddaughter.

Robin Hood: “Regina, you are my future.” Oh dear.

Do y’all think that lost soul dragging Arthur is Milah though? Like, “get off my man! He’s mine, bitch!”

Emma’s like, “omg my dead bf’s posting me sexy dildo pics from hell. He’s so sweet.”

Guys, don’t leave the baby alone.

He definitely knows Regina and Robin are there. They’re talking so loudly!

Sorry, Emma but I love Zelena effortlessly throwing people about. I still think she’s more powerful than Emma and Regina. No one could dispel her protection spell. Definitely the most powerful telekinetic possibly out of any other character. Did you see her move that tree as a baby?!

Hades, please don’t kill Zelena’s sister! 

Oh no! The jagged sparkly dildo of death has an electric shock feature! Very kinky.

Lmao!!! I’m sorry but Robin’s death scene looks so funny! It’s shot so weirdly!

Well, Robin byeeeeee. Remember all those times he stood in the background and said nothing except the occasional “you were the evil queen” and “look there are trees here!” or of course, the already established “this place is deserted”. Fun times.

Regina be like, “show me those hands! Show me those jazz hands!” A very appropriate reaction if I do say so myself.

Okay but seriously. Did Robin not think about his 2 kids? Why didn’t he just push her out the way and run? Why didn’t Regina use her magic at all? This could have been so easily avoided but I think it was necessary for Regina’s character development and the plot. I think they ran out of things to do with Robin, and it was becoming more and more unrealistic that a character like Regina was in love with a character like him, in my opinion. She became a completely different character around him. Not all happy endings involve romantic love. I like that she remained single. Also, Robin never really made connections with the other heroes. He barely spoke to them. Literally, I think he only spoke to Hook twice and Emma once! I think Charming once too and I’m not sure he ever spoke to Snow. Maybe once in early 3b. I think that’s why, to me, he felt so disconnected from them. It would have worked a lot better if he was a villain all along, seeking vengeance on Regina for his wife’s death.

God, Hades! Zelena just wants to live in her little farmhouse, watching her daughter play on the swings and bunnies hop around while drinking tea in their magical enchanted garden!

Oh my God, if I was Zelena I would scream. Too many people in her head! Tbf if I was Zelena, I’d throw that giant dildo through the window and let Emma have it for herself as Hook intended.

Get lost Hades! Honestly, this is when I stopped being a serious Zades shipper. Before this I was a hardcore fan! But he tried to force her to kill her sister! He even says, “If you won’t, I will.” That’s going too far!

All Zelena ever wanted was love! I’m glad she finally recognizes that. She thought she wanted the material things her sister had but it was familial love that she never got from her adoptive father and only got a short taste of from her adoptive mother that she truly craved.

She chose her sister!

I hate that they made her kill Hades! Why couldn’t someone else do it?

Omg look at the sisters hold each other! I am going to die!!

Well, it’s nice that Arthur and Killian are getting along now, considering this is literally all Arthur’s fault. Somehow, after this episode, I can’t bring myself to hate Arthur as much as I did before. 

I guess the prophecy could still come true. He could repair the broken kingdom that is the Underworld.

I feel like this was addressed in a DVD extra, but does Arthur or Cruella end up ruling the underworld? I feel like it was Arthur, but my heart wants it to be and says it is Cruella and her lover the Blind Witch. 

Wow, Dumbledore and Harry look so different at King’s Cross in the afterlife. Is the horcrux in Harry destroyed??

Zeus, you horny bastard, we all know you probably slept with every character in ouat at some point. And we also know you’re a hardcore CS shipper!

Zeus looks so young lol. Why?

Hook: “Is this real? Or has this been happening inside my head?" Zeus: “Of course it is happening inside your head, Hooky, but why on earth should that mean that it is not real?”

Sorry. I had to.

Poor Roly :(. He’s an orphan now. I hope someone adopted him. I’m surprised Regina didn’t.

Zelena what kinda drugs are you smoking to call the baby Robin?! Dear God. Pistachio would have been better! I’ve probably said this before, but I inadvertently called her name would be Robin. In my group rp, my Zelena kept referring to the baby as “baby Robin.” if you can gaze into the future (Future, future) You might think life would be a breeze (Life is a breeze) Seeing trouble from a distance (Yeah, go Bec) But it's not that easy xD. I’ve been rewatching That’s so Raven with my mama and thus far I’ve been having more precognitive dreams than my already bananas amount.

Why do villains always crumble to dust/vanish, especially in this show: Maleficent (twice, I think), Pan (twice), Zelena, The Snow Queen, Hades, Split Queen, The Black Fairy. I don’t get why they do that.

Thank God that flipping red filter is gone! Good riddance! 

The Underworld arc wasn’t anywhere near as bad as the Dark Swan arc. It was actually much better than I remembered. I enjoyed it, even! How did I not pay attention to all the Zelena gold in this arc?! 

Anyway, excited next week for Davis Bloome- I mean Hyde! 

[camelot-queen]

Irondad amnesia drabble

Here’s another one that I have no idea where it was going... I just started writing it. It’s a fun idea to mess around with in little blurbs maybe but I can’t figure out how to make a whole fic out of it.

—

“Hey, kiddo. Remember me yet?”

The tight-lipped smile answers his question before the reply does. “No, sorry. No yet.”

Tony tries not to feel disappointed by that. It’s been a month now since Peter got the head injury that caused him to forget everything from the past two years, including: the spider bite, his uncle dying, and… Tony himself.

He remembers him as Iron Man and the famous owner of Stark Industries, but not as his mentor. Not as his friend. It hurts a little to go back to seeing the wide-eyed look of idolization that Peter had finally gotten past. They were just starting to get comfortable around each other, and now they’re starting at ground zero again.

Not that Tony has a right to complain. Peter definitely had it way worse. Having to be there while May explained that his uncle has been dead for two years was the hardest thing Tony ever had to watch. The way his face crumpled, first into disbelief and then into tears, hurt Tony more than he could have predicted. The kid’s pain was his pain, and he knew how much the kid cared for his uncle.

So really, considering all the kid was going through to get up to speed on two years of lost memories, he didn’t have it quite as bad.

But still, it stung a bit to think of all the things they went through together that were completely lost on the kid... maybe forever. How they met, the fight in Berlin, even his lower moments like taking away. All that history… gone. It only lived on in Tony’s mind now.

“It’s okay, Pete,” he replies, returning the half-smile. “You’ll get it eventually.”

But the truth is he might not. There is a very real possibility he never will. The doctors explained that head injuries are very mysterious and no two are alike. He may regain his memories or he may not. Only time will tell.

“How’d you do today?”

Peter shrugs. “Okay, as usual. It hasn’t gotten any easier to catch up on everything.”

“He’s handling it like a champ, though,” May chimes in, coming over to wrap her arm around his shoulders. “He’s doing a really good job at catching back up to his current grade level. If he keeps this pace up, he could just graduate by the end of the year.”

Peter blushes and ducks his head at the praise.

“Really, now?” Tony asks. “You know, if you ever need an extra tutor, I’m happy to help.”

Peter’s head whips up and that wide-eyed disbelieving look is back.

“I, um, uh…” Peter stutters, trying to gather himself. “I’m okay, Mr. Stark. Thank you, but I don’t… I probably wouldn’t be able to concentrate if I had Iron Man as my teacher.”

Tony tries to ignore how that makes his heart sink. He and Peter had grown so accustomed to lab sessions, homework help, friendly sparring, movie nights… it seems unnatural not to have those anymore. But now Peter is too nervous to even let him tutor him. It’s a jarring difference. But things aren’t the same, Peter’s brain still needs time to catch up to what Tony is accustomed to. He was only just released from the hospital a week ago after being under observation for a while. He’s still getting used to his new life as sixteen-year-old Spider-Man.

“Right… didn’t mean to rush you, sorry,” Tony fumbles to stay composed. “I gotta… I should… yeah, forget about it.”

May and Peter share a look. May raises an eyebrow at him and seems to be trying to communicate telepathically, but Peter simply furrows his brows. May sighs.

“Sorry, boys, I have to run out,” she explains, pulling away from Peter. “I have important errands to run. Tony, would you mind staying with Peter while I’m gone?”

Tony blinks. “Oh, um, of course.”

“Thank you so much,” she smiles. “I’ll only be around an hour… I’ll be back in a bit. You two just make yourselves comfortable. Peter, will you be okay?”

Peter seems flummoxed by how easily May asked Tony to stay with him and the prospect of being left alone with one of the greatest minds of the century, but he nods.

“Great,” she leans down to kiss him on the top of his head. “I’ll be back soon. Bye, sweetie!”

She gathers her purse and her keys and exits the apartment in a rush, leaving Tony and Peter by themselves. It feels weirdly uncomfortable to be left alone with the kid. He’s not sure if he should act professional or friendly—and which one would scare Peter more. He looks over at him nervously.

“Hey, Mr. Stark… I just wanna say I’m sorry—”

“Hey, no need to apologize!” Tony interrupts, surprised by the genuine tone of the kid’s voice. “None of this is your fault, you were hurt.”

Peter sighs. “I know… but I keep making everyone sad. I’m trying really hard to remember things, it’s just… really hard. And you’re Tony Stark. I can’t even believe I’m even talking to you right now, but apparently we’re friends? And I’m Spider-Man? The last two years of my life sound incredible, and I can’t even remember any of it. I wish I could.”

Tony sighs. “Me too, kid. But we’ll make it through this. Things are different, but you’re still you.”

“Am I, though?” Peter asks. “Am I still the same Peter you knew?”

“Of course you are,” Tony responds. “Just rewound a bit. You’re exactly like you were when we first met. You may not remember what happened in between then and now, but we’ll get there.”

“What if I never remember, though?” Peter asks, eyes glistening.

“Well luckily… we have time to figure that out.”

Peter ducks his head and rubs at his eyes, and Tony takes that as his cue to sit next to him on the couch.

“I know I’m upsetting you,” Peter says quietly. “And the last thing I want to do is upset my childhood hero. I just… I feel so useless.”

“You’re not useless,” Tony promises. “Listen, even if the memories never come back, there’s always time to make new ones. We did it once before, we can do it again… okay?”

Peter’s smile is a little less forced now. “You’ve been so patient with me and I can tell you’ve been trying really hard… I thought you were just my mentor for the whole Spider-Man thing. Did we really mean that much to each other?”

Tony clasps Peter’s shoulder. “Yeah… we did.”

Peter nods, taking it in. “Wow… well, I’m really glad I met you. Let’s start over?”

“I’m really glad I met you too,” Tony says truthfully. “Hi, Peter Parker. My name is Tony Stark.”

Peter smiles. It’s a new start.

[ladybugsfanfics]

One “Wrong” Turn | Peter Parker & Stephen Strange

Pairing: none, just the spiderling and the sorcerer bonding ^_^

Style: One Shot (might write more later??)

WC: 2.2k

Warnings: mention of a very sad death :((((

Summary: @lifeonthesideoftheangels​ said: “Ok but now that Tony’s gone, until it’s proven otherwise its cannon to me that Peter just casually hangs out at the sanctorum after class and Strange pretends to be annoyed at first but secretly enjoys having him around and starts teaching him everything he knows. #also Wong constantly comes in to Peter just hanging upside down from the rafters reading one of the ancient books and Strange levitating and is like “yo I’m about to go get dinner, you guys want anything?”” - og post

A/N: so this took longer than expected but also i love this duo and i might write more later but im not sure yet. hope you enjoy ^_^

if you want to be tagged in future fics, please send an ask ^_^

| My Masterlist |

Peter never intended to take a wrong turn, or a right depending on how you see it. That first time, he just walked with that lump in his gut that had been lingering for forever. He walked, choked up because it had been his first day back to school and all everyone could talk about was the blip (seriously why is it called that?). And all Peter could do was try not to choke up, try not to let the tears run as he heard Tony’s name.

When the bell rang and they were free to go, Peter didn’t hesitate to get out of there. But instead of the usual survey of the neighborhood and trying to find a way to impress… well, the person he wanted to impress wasn’t there anymore. 

So, he wandered. First, he went the usual way home, but he took a turn sometime before the apartment and wandered straight. Exactly why he walked so long, he didn’t know. Where he ended was in no way on the way home, and checking his clock, he had walked longer than he thought. 

The building he stood in front of was big, three floors tall. Windows lined the orange brick walls, but they were impossible to see through. And the only reason he knew he was at the right place was the giant circular window at the top of the building. Brown lines in the glass created something that hinted to an H but with two strikes through the bottom. Peter wasn’t sure what exactly the symbol was for, but he hadn’t talked much with Mr. Strange to know either. 

With a deep breath, he knocked on the door. Or, he tried to knock, but instead the door opened and he kind of stumbled in trying to regain his balance. The first thing he saw was a set of stairs, and down those stairs, levitated Mr. Strange. Peter gulped at the sight, seeing as the man probably did not want him there. 

“Mr. Parker,” he said, “what may I help you with?” 

Peter shook his head. “Uhh, Mr. Strange, I―”

“Doctor Strange.”

Peter frowned and the sorcerer gestured for him to continue. “Uh, I just walked, like real far, and I’m not sure why I came here but I… I don’t want to go home.” 

“And therefore you came here?” The man raised a brow, but Peter still couldn’t read more of his expression. “I guess this is a hard time for you. May I offer something to drink?”

“Really?” Peter’s eyes widened. “I don’t want to intrude, but…”

Doctor Strange shook his head. “Today, only.” He turned around. “Follow me.”

Peter happily obliged. 

At the top of the stairs, Strange took a right and Peter followed after as fast as he could. The hallway ended in a kind of common room area, where Peter stopped, unsure of what to do. And only sat down as Strange told him to. 

“I’m not gonna be a therapist, I’m more of a surgeon actually, but do you need to talk to someone?” 

Something cool to the touch appeared in Peter’s hands. He looked down to find a coke in his hands, and he glanced weirdly up at Strange. 

“Would you like something else?” the man asked. 

Peter shook his head. “No, no, this is nice. Thank you.” He took a sip, only to down the entire bottle as he underestimated how dry his throat really was. In fact, he should’ve drank water, but he didn’t want to say anything. As he put down the bottle, it refilled and his eyes drifted wide-eyed between the bottle and the Sorcerer in front of him. 

The sorcerer clapped his hands. “Now, please feel free to do homework here, and leave me to do my own work.” 

“I don’t have any homework yet. It was the first day of school today.” 

Strange sighed and shook his head. “Well, you can still leave me to do my own work.” And then the male disappeared. 

---

How long Peter sat there, bored and staring into nothingness, he wasn’t sure, but eventually, he decided to explore a little. He found that the floor he was on was mainly living room space. There were bedrooms, more than one kitchen, or there might only be one but he got confused, and the common area he had been in. At some point, he found a set of stairs that took him into the third floor. 

It was here his curiosity spiked. Everywhere around him, there were bookcases filled to the rim with books. Most didn’t really gain his attention as they were all rather dusty and old, but he figured they were probably all interesting if you wanted to learn. He walked around, and a lot of the things there did not look like magical artifacts, but he suspected they were. 

Most looked like everyday things, like the radio that got his attention. It looked rather old, but maybe it worked. He was about to put his finger to it, when a voice echoed in the room, “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

Peter whipped around to find Strange levitating a few meters away, a book in his hand and a quick glance up at Peter. “Does it work?” asked Peter. 

“Well, if by work you mean it will kill you after one touch, yes. If you mean that it works like a radio, no.” 

Eyes wide, Peter turned back to it once more. “Really, it kills at one touch?” he asked. 

“I wouldn’t try if I were you, but yes, it should.” Strange let out a chuckle behind him. 

Peter nodded. His feet padded over to the next thing that caught his attention; The massive circular window with the double striked H. He turned to look at Strange. “What does this mean?” 

The man levitated over to where he stood. “It is called the Seal of the Vishanti,” he replied, “or the ‘Window of the Worlds’. I wouldn’t expect you to know, but the Vishanti are three god-like Principalities who each exist in their own realm. The Omnipotent Oshtur, Hoary Hogarth and Agamotto the All-Seeing. Together they act as one to empower the magical spells of sorcerers, throughout realities and dimensions, who invoke them. It also protects the Sanctum from a series of threats.”

“Oh, that’s so cool,” said Peter and studied the Seal further. “Are there other cool things here?”

Doctor Strange smiled fondly. “Plenty.”

---

The Sanctum bathes in sunlight that filters in through the windows. Silence has taken over the room, only broken when a page turns or a sigh can be heard. 

Peter hangs from the rafters, sticking to them upside down and turning the pages of one of the books Strange allowed him to touch. He doesn’t understand half of the words he sees, but the pictures are fascinating and he wishes he did. 

He would ask, if it weren’t for the fact that the sorcerer with the answers is levitating across the room, eyes closed and doing something that looks like meditation. As Strange gotten cozy as that, he’d given Peter a very sure stare of ‘do-not-disturb’. Of course, the man had also said to be left alone for at least an hour. 

However, that hour isn’t up yet and Peter has been going through the same book for so long he’s getting kind of bored. He closes the book again, as carefully as he can, and drops down a little to place it on the table underneath him. The thud it makes as it hits the table has him glance to the levitating man, but it elicits no reaction. 

With a sigh of relief, Peter moves around. He knows not to touch anything (or he knows he might die if he does), so he only studies them from afar. But nothing fascinates him long enough to keep his attention, and there are only so many artifacts in the room. Nor does it help that none of them have a description plaque as they do in museum. 

Peter slings around a little more, careful to not use big movements and accidentally knocking something down. Though the thought does cross his mind as the minutes tick by increasingly slower. 

His hazel eyes skim the titles of the books. Nearly every title reads as Book of something. Book of Fire, Book of Demonicus, Book of Shataki, Book of the Vishanti. He finds the fact there there exists something called the Necronomicon (which he thinks has to do about necromancy) highly interesting. Also, The Scroll of Eternity sounds like something he would like to read, though he has no idea exactly how to. 

In the end, as Peter gets to impatient, he gingerly―with a glance to the sorcerer whose eyes are still closed―takes the Book of the Vishanti from the bookcase. After hearing more about the three deities behind the Seal, he wants to know more. Surely, Strange can’t find his interest bad, maybe annoying, maybe a little concerning, but definitely not bad.

Back in the rafters, Peter lets his fingers run along the edge of the book. It feels ancient; rough binding that’s probably only so because it’s old; worn back; papers half sticking out, darkened by the years it’s existed. The cover has the Seal of the Vishanti on the front. It pokes out, feels metallic and cold under Peter’s fingers. 

Opened, the book seems to grow in size, heavier under Peter’s touch. The pages of the book aren’t as worn as they looked before he opened it. A light brown, resembling a coffee stain, creeps its way in from the edges, and the paper itself is a darker, less white shade. On the front page, the Seal of Vishanti greets him again, almost weighing him down. 

Peter placed the book into the middle of his left palm, making sure it’s balanced well so he doesn’t lose it―that would be catastrophical. With his right hand, he turns the pages. Nothing interesting at the first few, much like the usual books he reads. 

Turning the pages, he doesn’t actually seem to understand anything of this book either. He notes some of the words, tries his best to understand them together, but the context makes no sense. To him, it’s just a bundle of words. 

But he does find it entertaining. Making no sense, the book itself just become some lame joke. And Peter laughs, in a way he sees as ‘quietly’. 

Understandably, it is not that quiet. Strange, where he levitates―his hour has to be up soon, right?―peeks open an eye and glances at the smiling spiderling hanging upside down on the ceiling. Peter’s senses tingle to the onlooking eye and he turns to look at the sorcerer. 

“Which book?” comes the deep voice from across the room. 

Peter holds a finger where he is and shows Strange the cover. The Seal being easily recognizable, Strange smiles slightly, which has Peter frown. 

“Good choice,” the doctor says, “but you have no idea what it means, do you?”

He shakes his head. “No, uhh, it’s funny, though.” 

Strange nods, and―Peter is not sure how because the movement doesn’t really exist―levitates to where Peter hangs. “I believe that.” He takes the book from Peter’s hands. With slender fingers, he files through the pages and lands on one in the far back―did the book just gain pages? 

“Here, this should amuse you.” Strange hands Peter he book, a finger pointing to one of the passages. 

Peter takes it. His eyes land where Strange’s finger points. The lines look rather blurry, the pages far more worn here than at the start―odd. He reads one sentence, a smile on his face, and then the next. 

But he only gets halfway through before footsteps are heard. Both Peter and Strange shoot their heads up and look at Wong as he enters the Sanctum. The man raises a brow at the two, both high up in the ceiling instead of the many chairs they could have taken. 

The bewilderment doesn’t last long. “Yo, I’m about to go get dinner, you guys want anything?” Wong asks, his eyes glancing between Peter and Strange. 

Peter’s eyes widen and he nods frantically, nearly dropping the book―thank god for quick reflexes. “Yeah, I’m starving,” he replies, “what’re you getting?”

“Thinking pizza, just to make it easy.”

Water fills Peter’s mouth as he thinks about the many good pizzas it’s possible to eat in New York city. He nods, even more frantically than before. “I would like three, thank you,” he says. 

Both Strange and Wong frown at him. “Three slices?” they ask. 

Peter shakes his head. “Three pizzas.” 

Despite that being a lot of food for one person, the two sorcerers only shrug and nod. Wong looks to Strange, “and you?”

The man takes a deep breath. “Sounds good.”

Now it’s Peter’s and Wong’s turn to stare quizzically at Strange, but he doesn’t seem to notice. Wong shakes his head and rolls his eyes in Peter’s direction, making the teenager try to hide a smile. 

“I’ll be back soon.”

Peter wishes it’ll be here now. There are two sorcerers in this building, can’t they just magic the pizza?

permanent tags: @devilbat @adefectivedetective @gamillian

[babethepig]

you were the sweetest apparition (such a pretty vision)

Summary: There is a little light shining far away.

It's a memory.

He should be somewhere else.

The light goes out.

or dan and phil wake up inside a dream.

Word count: 3836

Rating: G

(read on ao3)

This was written for @phanfictionevents Spring Fic Exchange, I was busy on posting day and then forgot completely about it.

This was a gift for @akiranonamida

I can't thank @secretlizard enough for helping me with this story and being the nicest human in this world.

Title from Saw You In A Dream by The Japanese House

The weight on his chest is constricting, Dan tries to move but it's useless, the darkness pushes down harder.

There is a little light shining far away.

It's a memory.

He should be somewhere else.

The light goes out.

✾✾✾

Dan is yanked out of his dream, gasping for air, images of the light still dancing behind his eyelids. He sits up on his bed clutching his chest, trying to ground himself, searching his bedroom for some familiarity. Same tiny bed, same brown walls. He is home, he is safe. He thinks about lying down again but he knows it would be useless so he lifts the blanket carefully, not wanting to wake Phil up, and gets out of bed.

The house is quiet, which is odd for a Monday when everyone should be running around and getting ready. He opens the door to his brother’s bedroom and takes a look. He’s not there. It must be later than he thought.

His mother is not around either. Dan shrugs and makes himself some coffee. He still has this weird feeling on his chest but tries to brush it off. Nightmares are the worst.

Dan opens the mugs cabinet and finds it empty. That’s weird. He opens the fridge and finds nothing there, he frantically checks all the cabinets and all the drawers.  They are devoid of content, all of them. Something heavy settles in his stomach.

“Mum!” He calls, even though he already knows he won’t get an answer.

He stares at the clock hanging on the kitchen wall. No matter how hard he concentrates he can’t make out what time it is.

Something seems wrong.

Then he remembers.

Phil.

Dan  races up the stairs, bewildered and confused, tripping over his own feet., He is out of breath when he reaches his bedroom. Phil is there - Why is Phil there?- still asleep in his bed, Dan doesn’t even have time to be excited about it.

“Phil,” he shakes his shoulder lightly, “wake up, Phil. Come on.”

Phil stirs, eyes opening slowly. When he focuses on Dan’s face, a little smile blooms on his lips and Dan can’t stop himself from smiling back despite the weird situation.

“Is it March fifth already?” Phil asks, clearly confused. “I don’t remember taking the train,” he frowns.

“I’m afraid something is wrong,” Dan whispers gently as if breaking bad news to a  child.

“Wrong?” Phil’s voice pitches up in concern.

Dan bites his bottom lip, “come with me.”

He takes Phil downstairs to the kitchen. Maybe, somehow, Dan has forgotten how to read the hour, or maybe he has lost his mind. They stand together in front of the clock.

“What time is it?” Dan asks.

Phil tries to read the clock.

“I… I don’t know,” he glances fearfully at Dan. “What’s going on, Dan?”

“I’m not sure,” Dan shakes his head.

“Maybe we should get out of here” Phil suggests.

Dan takes a deep breath, he feels like going outside won’t make anything better, but the empty house is starting to fee lugubrious, and somehow the shadows seem to be taking up space. He takes Phil’s hand in his and squeezes hard, probably too hard, but Phil squeezes back and it feels reassuring so he decides right there and then that they can deal with whatever is outside.

“You think it’s zombies?” Phil asks as they walk towards the front door.

“I really hope it’s not.”

Dan pulls the door open.

✾✾✾

Deserted.

The neighborhood is deserted, there are no people, no cars, no dogs barking or birds singing. There is nothing.

“I don’t like this,” Phil says, stepping closer to Dan, almost hiding behind him as if Dan could actually offer him any safety. Then Phil gasps “Look up!”

Dan does.

The sky is pin.ot the soft degraded orangish-pink of a sunset, but a solid pastel pink. And not only that, Dan can see both the moon and the sun hanging i. It’s weirdly beautiful.e needs a moment to take everything in. This is not the real world, it can’t be.

“It’s a dream,” Phil voices what Dan had only just figured out.

“Finally!” a strange voice behind them chimes in making Dan jump and Phil grasp his arm tightly. “You are now aware you are dreaming, congratulations!”

They turn around slowly, afraid of what they might find standing there, a monster or an ax murderer or a monster trying to murder them with an ax.

Dan almost laughs at what is actually there. A cat. A fluffy black cat.

“What’s up?” It says as it lifts a paw and gives it a couple of delicate licks.

“Uh…” Phil begins, “that’s what we’re wondering?” He sounds so unsure, this whole situation is bizarre.

“Oh, right,” the cat says as it just remembered what it was doing. “Before we continue, Daniel, I would appreciate it if you stopped calling me ‘it’, my name is Marvin.”

“Can you… read my thoughts?” Dan asks, incredulous.

“I’m part of your psyche so…” The cat- Marvin says, as it made any sense.

“Marvin,” Phil says, “Can you tell us what’s going on?"

“You're dreaming, dummies”.

“Like... together?” Phil frowns. “How is that possible?”

Marvin stares at them for a second and gives a languid roll of its shoulders. Was it shrugging? Cats can’t shrug! Dan thinks.

“How do we wake up? We're already aware of the dream, shouldn't we just wake up now?” Dan questions the cat.

“I’m just a cat, I don’t know those things.”

“Oh, great,” Dan rolls his eyes, “we're stuck here.”

“Not exactly, you can get out. Just find the key.”

“What key?” Phil asks now, crouching down to Marvin's level.

“The key to the door.”

“Stop being cryptic!” Dan demands.

“The cat yawns sharp teeth on display, and flicks its tail. “Follow the blue path.”

Dan looks around, “there’s no path!”

“Look again,” Marvin purrs.

Dan reluctantly does so. There’s a blue path on the ground that leads to a thick forest. “Oh, fuck you! That wasn’t there a second ago!”

Marvin stretches his little body and starts to walk away.

“Please wait!” Phil calls after him. “Where’s the key?”

“You’ll know when the time is right,” he pauses, “And Dan, a word of advice. Don’t lose Phil.”

Then Marvin disappears, just as he came.

Dan grunts, “fuck this!” he and pinches himself on the arm, hard. “Ouch!”

Phil stares, clearly concerned for his sanity, “maybe don’t do that?” Dan squints at him. “Let’s follow the path, we have literally nothing to lose.”

“Well, apparently I could lose you.”

“Marvin was just being, come on.”

“This is so stupid!” Dan complains. “Why can’t we just wake up?”

“It’s not that bad, Daniel,” Phil takes hold of Dan’s arm and starts pulling him towards the woods.

Dan looks back then, to the place where his house was just a couple of minutes ago, everything seems to be engulfed in shadows now, slowly swallowed by darkness. The anger in him is replaced by something else, the heavy feeling returns to his chest. The only way out of this place is forwards. Dan cuts his last string of resistance and follows Phil.

✾✾✾

“But this is insane,” Phil says, he has been chatting mindlessly for a while, Dan knows that it’s out of nervousness, that he feels like he needs to fill up the blank spaces talk more so none of them can actually spiral too much trying to find explanations for the inexplicable. “Were you thinking about me when you went to sleep?”

Dan is startled by the question, for a second he just stares at Phil, his brain taking a minute to process what he asked.

“Yeah?...” It sounds more like a question and Phil laughs.

“Were you then?”

“We were talking before going to bed, I guess I was thinking about you. Why does it matter though? Is not like I didn’t think about you all the time anyway,” the statement is bold and Dan immediately feels like hiding away, he bows his head down and wonders if he can blush in dreams.

Phil knocks his shoulder against Dan’s not unlike a playful cat.

“You’re always thinking about me?” he teases Dan.

“Shut up,” Dan mumbles. “And who says it’s my fault?” He looks up then, challenging Phil who only laughs again.

“It’s no one's fault, Dan. I’m just guessing that if we both were thinking about each other before going to sleep maybe that connected our dreams.”

“I don’t think that’s possible.”

“It’s just a theory,” Phil shrugs.

“Maybe I’m going mad and you’re just a figment of my imagination,” Dan half jokes.

“You’re not going mad, don’t be silly,” Phil reaches out for Dan’s hand and interlocks their fingers. “Let’s just enjoy this virtual time together.”

Dan looks back down to the blue ground beneath his feet and grants himself the liberty to be vulnerable for a moment. He squeezes Phil’s hand and pulls him closer.

“I think I just have been missing you like… a lot,” Dan confesses

“Dan,” Phil tugs playfully at their linked hands, “I miss you too.”

“You think that we miss each other so hard that our subconscious got connected somehow?”

Phil gives him a warm smile and a little shrug, “maybe.”

“I hate not knowing what's going on,” Dan whispers Like there could be someone eavesdropping them. In a dream. In their minds.

Phil nods silently. Dan wants to be in control… of what exactly? This is their minds, after all, mixed together somehow. They must have some sort of control.

Still, there’s nothing more terrifying than being trapped in your own mind.

“Greetings wanderers,” says a posh voice.

Dan whips his head up. There is someone standing in front of a little fence that cuts the blue path in half.

The slender figure is dressed in what looks like a long and colorful garment, but as they get closer, Dan can see that they are actually covered in butterflies hundreds, maybe even thousands of living, moving little insects are poised on this entity's body. A long arm stretches out, its thin hand clutching a very big and very purple flower as if it were an umbrella. And the oddities don't cease there, the hair on the creature's head is an emerald flare that seems to dance in the wind, and a third eye blinks at them from the middle of their face.

“Hello,” Phil says as if nothing weird is going on and he is just greeting an old friend.

“You look like a clever little one,” they tell Phil, looking him up and down with their three eyes. “I have a riddle for you!” They smile a toothy smile and lean their head to the side. “Tell me, what starts with "e", ends with "e" but only has one letter?”

Phil seems to think about it for a second, goes as far as tapping his chin in a contemplative way. Dan is still trying to process all the new information that is entering his brain when Phil makes a triumphant sound.

“An envelope!” He says.

“Well done,” the entity cheers. “Now you can walk through my garden. Careful with the flowers, they like a little gossip,” they blink their third eye to Phil. Dan is only mildly disturbed while Phil looks completely delighted by the whole situation.

They start walking towards the open door on the fence, Phil leading the way but just as Dan is about to walk through, the door closes.

“Not so fast little one,” they stop Dan. “I have a riddle for you too.”

“Uhh, I-”

They interrupt him, “What belongs to you but others use more than you do?”

Dan is speechless, frozen to his place; utterly and bloody confused, to say the least. His brain just can’t analyze this right now.

“I don’t know,” he tells them.

“Come on sweetheart, you have it on you,” the butterflies on the entity’s body flap their wings as to encourage him.

Dan tries to think about it because he wants to go, he wants to wake up and apparently the only way out is He racks his brains until something lights up in his head. The thing with riddles is that once you see it, you can’t stop seeing it, and more often than not, the answer is painfully obvious.

“Your name!” Dan yells and goes as far as giving a victorious jump.

“Hurray!” The entity celebrates with him. “Now you can continue,” he opens the door for Dan. “Farewell wanderers!”

Phil waves vigorously at them and they wave back. The butterflies take flight and the entity disappears with them.

“That was so cool,” Phil says. He is excited.

Dan can’t help but smile too because… well, it was quite cool after all.

“Also, look at this place,” Phil continues his chatter. “These flowers are so pretty!”

Tall, vibrant flowers rose along both sides of the path, all kinds of them. Roses and lilies and tulips and others that Dan can't name. The most vibrant colors adorn their petals, the wind carries the fragrance of them, a scent as sweet as the feeling of getting out of the train at  Piccadilly Station to see Phil. The smell is warm and familiar and Dan finds himself at peace for the very first time since waking up inside this dream.

A strange murmur reaches his ears, it seems to get closer and clearer and after a moment Dan is able to make out what they’re saying.

“I think he drools when he sleeps.”

“What?” Dan wonders out loud, confusion tinting his voice.

“And he snores too,” there is a laugh followed by other many laughs.

“You are hearing that too, right?” Dan asks Phil.

Phil nods, “I am,” he looks puzzled too. “Umm, sorry. Who snores?” Phil inquires.

“Dan,” replies a delicate voice, “Dan snores.”

“And drools,” another voice chimes in.

“I don’t!” Dan stutters, indignant.

Phil looks around, trying to find who these voices belong to. Then Dan remembers what the owner of the garden said.

“The flowers,” he tells Phil. “They like to gossip,” he laughs.

“We don’t!” a bunch of flowers say at the same time.

“We like information.”

“Alright,” Dan claps his hands together. “We’re fine with that,” he takes Phil’s hand and drags him further along the path. Dan can see the end of the garden and he wants to get them out before the flowers drive them mad.

“Phil is messy.”

“So messy.”

“He leaves his socks everywhere.”

Dan can’t help but laugh at that, he already knows that from the times he has been at Phil house, in Phil’s rooms. He can’t say he minds that much.

“This is kinda fun,” Dan tells Phil.

Phil pouts, “I’m not having fun.”

“You are in love, aren’t you?”

“Can you believe Dan whipped for Phil?”

“So smitten.”

“They’re cute.”

Bowing his head to hide his huge grin, Dan continues walking with Phil right beside him. And the flowers continue blabbing away.

“You’re enjoying this quite a bit, eh?” Phil says.

“Can’t deny it’s funny,” Dan shrugs

“Well, I’m glad you’re not grumpy anymore.”

“I was not grumpy!”

“You were!” One of the flowers says just as they are reaching the end of the garden.

“Thanks!” Phil yells back.

Dan punches his arm lightly and Phil shoves him away playfully.

They walk, following the path in comfortable silence, enjoying the view of trees and pink skies. Dan can spot some mountains in the distance. He feels calm, maybe even happy.e allows himself to close his eyes, to breath, to forget that this is a dream. A light breeze hits his face, the ground feels firm under his feet… until it doesn’t.

A hand grips his arm quickly, Dan can barely leave out a little yelp before he is falling to the ground. He looks around, startled. There’s a fucking cliff.

“Holly shit!” Dan yells.

“Your eyes were closed?!” Phil yells back.

Dan just lets his back hit the ground again, he covers his eyes with his hands as a burst of hysterical laughter is ripped off his chest. Phil throws himself over Dan’s torso, his body shaking with Dan’s.

“Fuck!” Dan says between laughs. “Thanks for pulling me back.”

Phil shakes his head, face still buried on Dan’s chest, “that appeared out of nowhere.”

Dan pats his back gently.

They get up of the ground eventually and take a look at their possibilities.

“We can’t build a bridge,” Phil points out, “the space between the cliffs is too wide.”

As if on cue, a fluffy white cloud descends from the sky and places itself close to the edge of the cliff.

Dan looks at it, distrusting. “We’re not gonna jump on it.”

Phil seems to think about it, “it might be the only way.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Dan mutters under his breath. Phil’s probably right.

Dan accepts his fate, he runs as fast as he can till he reaches the edge and then jumps. He closes his eyes and doesn’t open them up until he feels the soft surface of the cloud under his body. Phil follows his seconds after.

“Now what?” Phil asks.

The cloud starts moving. It’s a gentle and consistent movement, it almost feels pleasant. They fly past the limits of the other cliff, furrowing the skies. Dan looks down, a purple river flows through the woods and as they move forward, the colors of the trees change from green to the softest yellow and orange and blue.

They land after a couple of minutes, and the cloud lets them down before flying away again.

But things aren’t over, Dan can feel it. The path becomes narrower and narrower, flanked by tall bushes on both sides. They reach a bifurcation, and Dan thinks he knows what's going on. They’re in a maze now. He turns around to tell Phil what he figured out, but Phil is not there.

“Phil!” He calls.

No answer.

“Phil!” He tries again.

Silence.

“Phil!!” He screams.

Phil’s not there. Dan lost him, as Marvin had warned earlier. He had lost Phil.

He runs, turning, speeding around corners,  running and running and running. He is going in circles, he knows, but he is desperate to get out. The walls seem to be getting closer and closer together, trapping him. The darkness is back, he can feel it creeping behind him but he is too scared to look so he runs. He closes his eyes at some point, as he has been doing so many times in the time he has been here, but now is for a different reason. He feels no peace, all he feels is a creaking fear that makes him shiver.

Normal dreams can turn into nightmares just as light can turn into darkness.

Dan needs to breath, to get it together, to find Phil, to wake up.

He lets himself fall to the ground, hugs his knees to his chest and rocks himself back and forth. Dan needs to find control, he needs to feel like he can stop this at any moment. If this is a dream- his dream, he wants out.

The darkness goes through him, he can feel it, his muscles going tense, all the hair on his body standing up, his heart beating faster and faster… For a moment everything is pure fear, and then it is gone.

Something touches his shoulder, Dan flinches away. He can only hear muffled noises, it’s like his ears are stuffed, but even in the distance, even like this, there’s a voice he can always recognize.

“Dan, Dan, can you hear me?”

Dan whips his head towards the voice in a manner that would have given him an instant headache on any other day. Phil is here, crouching down beside him.

“I lost you,” Dan pant, reaching for Phil, pulling him closer, making him stumble a little and almost tumble into his lap. Dan holds him there. “It was so fucking awful, I just wanted to make it stop.”

“You did,” Phil tells him, rubbing his back in soothing circles. “I was looking for you but I just couldn’t see you anywhere and then you kind of just appeared”.

“What?”

“I don’t know, it was like something shifted. I suddenly knew where to turn to find you,” Phil explains.

“Do you know where the key is?” Dan asks with a breathy laugh, not really expecting Phil to say yes.

“I think I do,” Phil says slowly.

“Do you really?” Dan pulls away from Phil to see his face.

He nods, “I told you, something shifted. I think I know the way out of the maze.”

Phil helps Dan to stand up and they walk hand in hand to prevent anyone from getting lost again. It feels like an eternity before they make the final turn. The hedge ends, and they can see the trees again. They step out of the maze and Dan feels like he could cry. Phil doesn’t stop though, he keeps walking towards a large tree, Dan stumbles behind him.

Phil drops to the ground and starts digging with his bare hands, Dan is confused but he kneels down too and helps.

Dan touches it first, “there’s something here!” He exclaims, filled with anticipation.

They dig faster and soon uncover a small box. Dan pulls it out and hands it to Phil.

The key.

The freaking key is inside.

Dan leaps up and jumps in for joy, and Phil joins him immediately. He pulls Dan into a hug. Dan is crying.

“Where’s the door though?” Phil asks after a moment.

“Turn around.” Dan knows that voice, they have heard it before.

They turn to see Marvin standing there, in front of a door that wasn’t there a minute ago.

Phil steps forward, holding the key out. He opens the door.

“Uhh-”

A black void stretches endlessly void on the other side of the door.

“It’s a leap of faith,” Marvin offers, cocking his head to the side.

Dan doesn’t even blink, “Well fuck it, we’re getting out of here.” He reaches for his hand. “Ready?”

Their eyes meet. There’s a feeling of complicity between them, Phil smiles. “Let’s jump.”

“Okay,” Dan smiles back at him.

“One.”

“Two.”

“Three,” Marvin chimes in.

They jump.

✾✾✾

Dan wakes up abruptly, He is back in his bedroom. He can’t believe it, he touches his chest and his face and pinches himself on the arm just in case, even if that didn’t prove anything when he was in the actual dream. The dream. It was just a dream. A crazy, probably missing-Phil-induced dream. Phil is gonna laugh so hard when Dan tells him, he thinks.

His phone rings, and he picks it from the nightstand.

It’s Phil.

“Dan?” He says as soon as Dan answers, he sounds excited. “You’re not gonna believe this. I just had the weirdest dream,” a pause. Dan know what he is going to say, “and you were there!”

[mxrvelfreak]

spideypool fic ; pt 1

smaknfdkjsal im trying i really am, so here is this, i hope you enjo  Y?

[[FYI, PETER IS OF AGE!! no underage shit going on here]]

-----

[Peter Parker]

The cold night air rushes through my suit. I push my mask up to take a bite of my sandwich. I sigh of relief. It feels nice to look over the city from a high up view (the top of my apartment building), and watch all the city lights and cars. I can even see groups of people walk together to a near club or to a restaurant.

College has been stressing me out. I’m lucky enough to have Ned and MJ in the same college, but the work amount is more than I thought. I still live with Aunt May, mostly because I don’t want to leave her alone, I’ve all she’s got left, and also because I’m broke as hell.

I finish my sandwich and take the time to stretch my muscles. I love moments like these, where nothing else in the world matters and all I pay attention to is my senses. Talking of senses, the back of my head tingles weirdly, and I know something is up. I whip my head to the direction of my tingles and pull my mask down. I run and sling to building to building until I finally sense that the trouble is right here.

It’s a dark alleyway, but I can hear two male voices. I crawl down the building to reach the ground. Goddamnit, Deadpool.

“You killed your own fucking grandma, you sicko. A defenseless sweet grandma. You’re going to learn your lesson by me, returning the favor,” Deadpool says, holding his katana, and raising it up. I instantly web his hand and pull him back to the ground. I web the grandma-killer to the wall.

“Again, Deadpool?” I say. He groans and looks up at me.

“Sorry, baby boy, I couldn’t help myself!”

“Told you not to call me that,” I mumble. I blush under the mask at his nickname for me. I’d die if he saw my blush. I web the criminal in a little cocoon so I can drop him off easily at the station. Deadpool tends to get a little violent. Actually, a lot. He promised that he wouldn’t do things like this, but here we are. I can usually calm him down easily. “C’mon, help me take this guy to the station,” I say, dragging the trapped murder.

“I’d love to sweetums, but you forgot the super-strong-sticky-jizz that’s stuck on my hand.”

I sigh and help him get unstuck to my web.

We drop off the murder at the station, with Deadpool waiting a street away. If he got arrested, he’d get multiple life sentences in prison with just the evidence they have on him. Why am I friends with this guy? He’s straight up a murderer, but yet he can make me blush with only two words. I met him a few months ago, when he yelled at me “IT’S WEDNESDAY MY DUDES, AHHHHHH.”

I leave the station and tag along with him. I’ve never actually had someone who actually wanted to fight with me, so yeah, I guess I’m kind of clingy to him. Even though he drives me absolutely insane. “Need a walk home? It’s late out, and I don’t want anything bad to happen,” he winks at me.

“I can walk and defend myself, Deadpool,” I say.

“Call me Wade, from now on. Just so you know what to scream when I fu--”

“YEAH! Nice name!” I cut him off. There was something up with him today, he never used this much dirty jokes. Plus, why was he even telling me his name? Did he really trust me that much? Should I tell him my name? What the hell are you supposed to do?!

“You alright? You froze up on me,” Wade poke my cheek.

“Huh? Hah, sorry,” I awkwardly say. I realize we’re almost at my house, and I stop walking. The last thing I want is him knowing where I live. “Well, uh, this is where I gotta leave,” I say, painfully awkward.

“See you ‘round, baby boy.” He waves and turns around to leave. I bit my lip.

“Wade?”

He turns around and tilts his head. “Just call me Peter.”

I can see his mask shift into a smile.

“Okay, Peter.” He waves and then skips off. I don’t even realize I’m smiling.

--

My eyes flutter to close. I gotta pay attention in this class. I’m so tired. I shouldn’t have stayed up that long outside, but then again, I wouldn’t have stopped that murder, and Wade killing another bad guy. Wade. Jesus Christ, that guy is always on my mind. I’ve never seen him actually violent. He’s always so goofy and stupid with me, even though I know he’s broken inside.

Sometimes I wish I could take off his mask. Even if he tell me his face is messed up, I still want to. It’s like I can hear his smile. My stomach does a flip whenever he laughs. I don’t think I’ve ever had this much of a crush on a guy. Like yeah, Chris Pine is the hottest human being on the earth, but it’s not like he can make me feel what Wade makes me feel.

“Peter?” Ned nudges me.

“Huh?” I jump.

“What are you thinking about?” Ned winks at me. “About WaDeEe?”

I visibly choke on my spit. I told him everything when I got home last night. Surprisingly, he was awake, crying about his student loans. “Ned-- stop.”

“You’re not denying, Petey!” Ned giggles. I groan and roll my eyes.

--

I get home and fall onto the ground from my heavy backpack and exhaustion. I grunt and push my backpack away and lay in a fetal position.

“Peter, someone is here to see you!” Aunt May chimes.

“In a minute,” I grumble. I hear someone walk over to me, and they smell heavily of expensive cologne and faintly shawarma.

“Get up, kid. I gotta talk to you,” he pokes me with his foot. I look up, and of course it’s Mr. Stark. I rub the tiredness out of my eyes and get up. I run my hands through my hair to try and look at least decent, but I know I look like a zombie, and Mr. Stark’s concerned stare proves it.

“Alright, well, I’m going to go run some errands and leave you two at it, okay?” Aunt May smiles. We both nod. Aunt May knows about the Spiderman thing, and she’s often strict about it, so I do still have to sneak out, but she’s more comfortable when I’m with someone like Mr. Stark with me. Aunt May leaves and Mr. Stark instantly starts to talk.

“You’re becoming friends with Deadpool?! Peter, you have no idea how dangerous he is! You have to stay away from him,” Mr. Stark sternly yells at me.

“He really isn’t that bad, Mr. Stark,” I grouse.

“Peter, do you know what kinds of crimes he has commited?!” 

“Yes! I do. He’s not doing that stuff anymore,” I’m lying a little on that one. He’s trying to stop, but thanks to me, I’m helping him. 

“I don’t trust him to be around you.”

“Stop acting like a dad. I didn’t leave my class to be lectured again,” I groan.

“I may not be your father, but that doesn’t mean I don’t love you like one.”

Wait, hold up. “You love me?” Honestly, Uncle Ben has been close on being a father, but he’s dead. Mr. Stark has been really close to being one of them. My pops and my Uncle Ben. The problem is that if I do start becoming attached to Mr. Stark, something bad will happen, and then he’ll be gone.

Mr. Stark just looks at me. “I care about you, kid. And if anything were to happen to you, especially because of him-- I wouldn’t know how to deal.”

I look a him for a second and tackle him for a hug. “Oh--! Okay.” Mr. Stark awkwardly pats me on the back and head. I feel safer whenever I hug Mr. Stark, I guess that’s why I like hugging him. Plus, he smells good. He pulls away from me.

“Don’t worry, by the way. Wade wouldn’t hurt me,” I say. Mr. Stark raises an eyebrow.

“Why are you so sure about that?”

My body decides to blush. “It’s-- I-- he just wouldn’t.”

“Do you have something to tell me, Peter? Is something going on between you two?”

“What? No-- pfft. I’m not gay, what are you talking about? Vaginas, am I right?”

Mr. Stark looks at me unimpressed. “Peter, I am gay. I’m dating Stephen-- I thought I told you this?”

“WHAT?!” I scream. Mr. Stark looks at me weirdly. “I-- what? I never knew?”

“I know a gay when I see one, Peter.”

“Fine. Maybe I’m bi, okay? And maybe he’s been like flirting with me hardcore, and maybe I kinda have crush on the guy, but look, I can’t imagine him hurting me!”

Mr. Stark sighs. “Maybe it’s because you’ve got a huge crush on him. Just, please, know what you’re doing. If he ever comes as close as laying a finger on you, I’ll pay him 10,000 to stay away from you, I swear.”

I laugh and nod. “I gotta go now, but take care, and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” Mr. Stark fluffs my hair and exits the door. That was weird. I laugh a little. Mr. Stark came all the way here to warn me about Wade, even though he could’ve just called me about it.

---------

wait for pt 2!!! ;) thanks for reading!

[marmolita]

asidian replied to your post “okay so I need a distraction to kick me out of the slump I’m in with...”

Promptis, cooking failure

r3zuri replied to your post “okay so I need a distraction to kick me out of the slump I’m in with...”

how about drunk!noctis ?

Okay so somehow I ended up combining these and mushing them a little bit and here you go???  Warnings for unintentional drug use and drugged making out, and this is 100% unedited.  Also the drug effects in this fic are not intended to be any real world drugs at all, I just made shit up.

***

"Okay," Prompto says, as Gladio gets Ignis settled in the tent, "tell me what we've got, I'm sure I can whip up something."  It's really a shame that potions can't do anything about the common cold, and Ignis is so snotted up that nobody wants him messing with their food.

Noct pokes through the cooler and bags of ingredients.  "Um, some dualhorn steaks and fish in here.  A couple potatoes, rice, some peppers, and I think mushrooms?"  He holds up a baggie with something brown inside, and Prompto squints at it.

"Yeah, looks like it.  I'm not sure what kind those are."

"Dunno, all I do is pick things up, Iggy figures out what to do with them."

"Okay, well, uh, give me the mushrooms and the steaks and some peppers, and go ahead and start some rice."

Half an hour later, Prompto dishes up dinner for everyone, and Ignis crawls out of the tent to join them.  "You look like shit," Noct says.

"I feel like it," Ignis replies.  He eyes the plate Prompto hands him skeptically, but eats all the same.

"This isn't bad," Gladio says, and Prompto grins.  It's actually pretty tasty, if he does say so himself, and even Mister Picky Prince Noctis chows down.

Everything's great!  That is, until his head starts feeling kind of woozy.  "I think maybe I'm coming down with Iggy's cold," Prompto says, rubbing his temple.

"Ugh, if you are, I am too."  Noct groans and leans back in his chair.  Ignis has already gone to bed, and Gladio is reading in the tent, so it's just the two of them.  "I feel dizzy and hot."

"Yeah, me too."

There's a shuffling from inside the tent, and then Gladio pokes his head out.  "The fuck did you put in that food, Prompto?"

"Huh?  Nothing?  I didn't put in anything that wasn't packed with our ingredients."

Gladio frowns and pulls his head back in to consult with a sleepy Ignis, then leans out again with a sigh.  "Iggy says he packed some medicinal mushrooms in with the ingredients.  Brown ones.  Those what you put in the food?"

Prompto and Noct exchange a glance.  "Yeah?"

"Shit.  Guess we're in for an interesting night.  I'm gonna try to sleep it off.  You guys . . . " Gladio frowns at them, "don't do anything stupid.  And don't leave the campsite."

"You got it," Prompto says, a little shakily.  He's kind of mad at himself for fucking up dinner, but it's not like Ignis had labeled the bag or anything useful like that.  And if all that's going to happen is a not-so-recreational drug trip, then that's probably not so terrible, is it?

Half an hour later, and Prompto is giggling uncontrollably while Noct rolls around on the ground doing his best impression of a cat.

An hour later, Noct suddenly remembers that chairs exist and starts telling Prompto about how brilliant the invention of the chair is.  Prompto nods solemnly as he slowly tips over and falls out of his chair.

Two hours later, the sound of Ignis coughing is loud enough that Noct and Prompto grab each other in fear and end up huddling together in front of the fire, before they get distracted by how pretty the fire looks.

Two and a half hours later the huddling has turned into cuddling and Noct decides that counting Prompto's freckles is a great use of his time.  "Take your clothes off," he says.  "How am I supposed to count them all if I can't see them all?"

"You just want to see me naked," Prompto counters as he pulls his shirt off.

"Yeah," Noct says, "but that's not the point."

If Prompto was in his right mind, he would stop and think about this, but everything is blurry around the edges and Noct's face is kind of glowing and so he just says, "Fine but you have to take your clothes off too," as he takes off his pants.

Three hours later, Prompto's floating on a cloud with Noct's lips against his own and Noct's body rubbing up against his, both of them just in their underwear.  Every time they pull apart, the two of them just start giggling.  It's weirdly hilarious, but in a fun way, and it feels good to have Noct pressed up against him, even if Noct is kind of messy and silly.

"You're like a cat," Prompto says, when Noct laps at the hollow of his throat with short swipes of his tongue.

"Meow," Noct replies, and digs his nails in.

***

Ignis wakes up feeling better than he has in days, likely thanks to the healing mushrooms Prompto had accidentally fed him the night before.  He sits up and looks around, noticing that only Gladio is in the tent with him.  Gladio's slumped on top of his sleeping bag, surrounded by no fewer than twenty Cup Noodles containers.  Ignis frowns, then crawls out of the tent.

Noctis and Prompto are asleep tangled together in a pile of naked limbs, and Ignis stares for a moment, blinks, then sighs.  He pushes his glasses up his nose and reaches into the tent for a blanket to drape over the two of them.  As the blanket falls into place, Noctis grumbles and cuddles closer to Prompto, and Ignis can't help smiling.  Perhaps he should let Prompto cook more often.

[waveridden]

FIC: this sort of thing is old-fashioned

“Cib doesn’t do anything on purpose,” Jeremy says, which might actually be true. Cib is one of the most confusing people any of them have ever met, which is extra strange when compared to Steve’s hyper-rational self. And somehow the two of them pilot the most famous Jaeger in Los Angeles. (A Pacific Rim AU. Cib/Parker, 2.8k.)

AUcember || title lyric || Ao3

#

“The boys are coming back,” Jeremy remarks, on what should be a totally uneventful Tuesday morning.

Parker glances over, trying to hide the fact that his heart is definitely beating faster. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Jeremy says, casual as can be, which is a sign that something is definitely up. “They got deployed way early this morning. Big mission before breakfast.”

“You’ve been talking to Reina again?”

“She let me know that they’re incoming. Sounds like they have something for you.”

“For us,” Parker corrects him. “Both of us. We have the same job.”

Jeremy snorts. “Yeah, because Cib bringing you things is related to our job, and not at all how he expresses affection the same way dogs do.”

“Cib’s not a dog,” Parker says, even though he’s pretty sure that would explain… a lot about Cib. “What’re they bringing?”

“She wouldn’t say, just said it was for you.”

Parker makes a face. He likes Reina - likes everyone in the Shatterdome, of course - but he doesn’t like the running joke where everyone seems to think he and Cib are dating. Or whatever the joke is. He tries to avoid it, because it’s the kind of misinformation that’s a little chest-stabbingly painful whenever he remembers it’s not real.

And besides. Dating a Jaeger pilot is probably a bad idea.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Jeremy says mildly. “This is good. This is gonna be a breakthrough, or something.”

“The last time Cib came back from a mission with something for us-”

“For you.”

“For us,” Parker repeats, “it was the left hand of their Jaeger, because he forgot that we’re K-Science and not J-Tech.”

“It was covered in Kaiju blue. We made breakthroughs with that.”

“That doesn’t mean he did it on purpose.”

“Cib doesn’t do anything on purpose,” Jeremy says, which might actually be true. Cib is one of the most confusing people any of them have ever met, which is extra strange when compared to Steve’s hyper-rational self. And somehow the two of them pilot the most famous Jaeger in Los Angeles. Nobody understands it, least of all Parker.

“Still,” Parker mutters. “We don’t know what he’s going to bring.”

Jeremy shrugs. “We’re gonna find out in a few minutes, right?”

“Yeah,” Parker sighs. He’s a little embarrassed by how much he’s looking forward to that. Steve doesn’t seem to like him at all, but he figures that’s the kind of thing that happens when your friends become Jaeger pilots. You become friends with their copilots. That has to be perfectly normal.

#

Reina pushes the door to the lab open and props her hands on her hips. It’s the kind of hands-on-hips that makes Parker stand up a little straighter for no real reason, the kind that seems to mean something is about to Happen.

“Okay,” she says at last. “We’re going to need-” she gestures towards half their lab. “Everything over there? Gotta get it out of there.”

Jeremy, lounging in a chair, jumps to his feet. “What?”

“You’re going to need space for this,” Reina says, in her mission control voice. “Like, guys, you’re really going to want as much room as possible.”

“Why?”

“You’ll know why in about twenty minutes.”

“Why don’t we know now?”

“We’re busy clearing it,” she says, and for some godforsaken reason, looks at Parker. “You… have indirectly made my life very difficult today.”

Parker blinks. “What? How did- sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“No, of course not,” Reina mutters. “It’s not your fault, someone else made it very directly difficult.”

“Someone whose name rhymes with bib, I’d guess,” Jeremy says, in that weird semi-cheerful way he gets whenever something incredibly weird is about to happen. It’d make Parker’s skin crawl if it weren’t Jeremy. “Twenty minutes?”

“Twenty minutes!” Reina snaps her fingers and points at Jeremy, then Parker. “Get it done. Boys’ll be here soon.”

Jeremy nods at her, and Reina leaves as quickly as she entered. “What do you think they’re bringing us?”

“I don’t know,” Parker says thoughtfully. “Sounds like an actual kaiju-related thing this time. Do you think we’ll need to sterilize?”

“I think if we’re going to try and prep lab space for kaiju parts in twenty minutes, we need to get a move on.”

“Good point.”

Jeremy grins at him, a little shark-like. “Still think it’s not for you?”

“Shut up,” Parker mutters, because if it’s for him then he doesn’t know how to handle that, and Jeremy has to know that by now. “Let’s just… prep the lab, okay?”

“Sure thing,” Jeremy says, a little overly generous. Parker decides to ignore him.

#

Andrew is the first one in the lab, followed by Sami Jo and Jamie from J-Tech and a ton of people that Parker doesn’t recognize. And in the center of them all is something huge and covered in a tarp.

“Sami Jo!” Parker says, more surprised than he means to be. “You’re- hey, what’s going on?”

“Too much, Coppins,” she mutters, but she still flashes him a bright smile. “You guys are going to be spending a lot of time here soon. Better get comfy.”

“Yeah,” Parker says, because he’s getting that impression, “but what’s… you know, happening?”

“Get comfy,” Sami Jo repeats, and goes off towards Jeremy.

Parker blinks after her for a few seconds, trying to understand, but Sami Jo isn’t easily understood, so he turns away and finds Cib only a couple feet from him. He tries not to jump, he really does, but he’s kind of an obvious jumper. “Oh, uh, Cib! What’s-”

“Got you a present,” Cib says. He’s practically beaming.

“Ugh,” Steve says, walking past them both. “You- come on, Cib.��

“I did!” Cib protests. “It’s a good one, too.”

“Thank you, first of all,” Parker says. “And I can’t wait to actually… find out what it is.”

“They didn’t tell you?”

“Reina said something about security clearance?”

Cib snorts. “You guys have, like, big fucking clearance, you should know what it is.”

“Couldn’t agree more,” Jeremy says, materializing by Parker’s shoulder. He’s still watching everyone fussing around the thing under the tarp, in the newly-cleaned and barely-sterilized half of their lab. “What’d you get us?”

“Steve, what’d we get them?”

Steven sighs. “So we cut a Kaiju in half in the middle of the ocean, and Cib had the great idea of bringing you guys the upper half.”

“What?” Parker whips around, staring at the thing. It looks like the engineers are pulling the tarp off, and it looks like a giant glass tank. “You got-”

“Lower half was too damaged to be studied extensively,” Andrew explains. “Hey, guys.”

Parker waves at Andrew. “Thanks, J-Tech.”

“We’ve been building you guys a tank all morning,” Andrew says. “Sami Jo saved our collective asses on that, she figured out how to get it done quick.”

“And it’s the kind of thing we can study?” Jeremy demands. “We can actually run experiments on it?”

“I named him Alfredo,” Cib says. When Parker glances over, he looks completely pleased with himself. And he’s looking right at Parker. “You like him?”

“This is the greatest thing anyone’s ever given me,” Parker says, mostly without thinking. Although it’s sort of true. He’s probably never going to leave the lab again, because he has to figure out every single secret that Alfredo has to offer. And that kind of puzzle, that kind of opportunity is the kind of thing that means a lot.

When he looks back, Steven is mid-eyeroll, and Andrew is making a face that means… something. But Cib has gone completely soft around the edges, like he melted. Like the only thing he wants to look at is Parker. It’s a little overwhelming, all told.

“Awesome,” Cib says warmly, and it’s all Parker can do to tear his eyes away and look back at Alfredo.

#

The thing is, then Parker actually doesn’t leave the lab for four days.

He and Jeremy have things to do - so many things to do. Experiments, ideas, the works. The only people allowed entry are Reina, because they couldn’t stop her if they wanted to, and whoever brings them pizza, which tends to be Reina because she gets automatic entry.

They spend the first day coming up with ideas for what to do with Alfredo. (Jeremy starts out insisting that they can’t name it, but by halfway through the second day he’s calling it Fred for time’s sake.) The second day is gathering equipment, with help from Andrew and Sami Jo. The third day begins with Jeremy sleeping, because apparently he’s still physically capable of that. Parker’s not sure that he is, which is why he’s awake and scribbling notes on a whiteboard when the door opens.

“Hey,” he says without turning around. “Reina, J-Tech, pizza?”

“Have you ever met an actual person before?” Steve says. “Just wondering. And why’s Jeremy on a lab table?”

“We don’t have sleeping bags.” Parker turns around, blinking hard when dark spots appear in front of his eyes. “What’s going on?”

“Just wanted to make sure that you’re still alive. Just you, I’m okay if Jeremy’s actually dead.”

“I would’ve filed a report.”

“You would’ve,” Steve mutters. It feels weirdly like an insult, even though it’s a factual statement.

And Parker, who hasn’t slept in a little over two days, can’t stop himself from saying, “Did I do something wrong?”

Steve frowns. “What?”

“Like, it’s okay if you want to be, you know, hotshot Jaeger pilot, because you are,” Parker says, and god, he’s babbling, but if he doesn’t say this now, he won’t do it. “Be friends with James and Autumn and all the other pilots, that’s cool, but we knew each other before, and I just want to know… why.”

“Why I’m not hanging out with you even though are jobs are in completely different divisions?”

“Why you don’t look at me anymore.”

Steve sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. Parker waits, swaying on the spot, until Steve says, “Listen. You’ve heard of ghost-drifting?”

“Sure,” Parker says. “You’re linked even when you’re not drifting.”

“Exactly. Cib and I get a little bit of that. Every pair of pilots does.”

“What about it?”

“Cib has… feelings.” Steven wrinkles his nose. “And I know they’re his, but I don’t want them to get mixed up with mine. So I’m trying to dial up my opposite feelings. And that means being mean to you.”

Parker blinks. “So Cib wants to be nice to me?”

“Oh, honey,” Steve says, “you’re smarter than that. And you didn’t do anything wrong, other than assuming that I was Reina, what the fuck?”

“Reina’s allowed here. You’re not.”

“Says who?”

Parker points at the whiteboard where he and Jeremy wrote all their lab rules. The biggest one, at the top, is the list of people allowed in the lab. “You’re not allowed.”

“Are you throwing me out?”

“If you’ll leave.”

“Get some sleep, dude,” Steve says. “This science is dangerous to do when you’re not functioning at a hundred percent.”

“It’s dangerous to do when you are.”

“Sleep,” Steve repeats, and leaves, calling over his shoulder, “and text Cib, for Christ’s sake.”

Parker should text Cib. He has a handful of unread texts from Cib, the ones that he knows would distract him if he read them, but he can’t read them. So instead he wanders over to the table where Jeremy is sleeping and crawls underneath. He knows it’s not great sleeping conditions, but he barely has time to think that he should ball up his coat under his head before he closes his eyes.

#

Jeremy wakes him up a few hours later - definitely not long enough for either of them to be rested, but enough that they can make better choices. “You ready to collect samples?”

“Mm.” Parker stretches and gets out from underneath the table. “Why’d I- there’s another table right over there.”

“I thought you just wanted my company,” Jeremy says. “But, you know.”

Parker half-smiles. “Maybe. You ready to do this?”

“I just asked you that.”

“Maybe we should get more sleep before we do this.”

“We don’t know how long Fred’s gonna last,” Jeremy reminds him. It’s a conversation they’ve had a dozen times over already. “Better to do it now.”

“I’ll tell Reina,” Parker sighs, and they get to work.

It takes them twenty-three hours, edging them into day four of lab work, for them to sample everything. They have tissues from the brain, mouth, eyes, throat, intestines, and a couple of things that Parker’s not sure what they functionally are but seemed important. But at the end of it Alfredo is still mostly whole, and they have… a lot of Kaiju fluids in their lab.

“Okay,” Jeremy sighs, scrubbing at his eyes. “Okay, clean-up, we should-”

“You can go,” Parker says immediately.

Jeremy frowns. “What?”

“Go see Andrew or something,” he says gently. “You’ve got- you know, there are people outside waiting for you. It’ll only take me a couple hours.”

“You sure?”

“Sure.”

“Alright.” Jeremy leans forward and hugs Parker. It’s a little awkward and more than a little clumsy, with the exhaustion and the fact that they don’t normally do that, but it’s heartfelt. Parker can tell. “Great job, dude.”

“You too.” Parker squeezes him and lets go. “Go have fun. I’ll be out soon.”

“Let me know when you’re done so I know you didn’t pass out,” Jeremy says, and then he’s out of the lab, on his way to see Andrew, probably.

Parker doesn’t mind being in the lab alone. He probably prefers it, all told. It’s quiet enough to hear himself think, or to talk to himself as he has ideas. Or talk to Alfredo, because Alfredo is a better listener than Jeremy during cleanup.

He’s just finishing up when the door swings open. “Almost done,” Parker says, and turns, and it’s not Jeremy. It’s Cib. “Oh.”

“Dude,” Cib says, looking around at all the carefully-labeled samples and equipment. “What is that?”

“It’s Alfredo.”

“Seriously?”

“We’re going to have so many tests to run.” Parker rubs his eyes. “After both of us eat something that came from a vegetable, or a food group other than takeout.”

“You did all this in four days?”

“We don’t know a lot about preserving Kaiju. We’re doing what we can.”

Cib whistles lowly. “Well, color me impressed.”

“Thanks.” Parker finally, finally remembers to smile at him. “And thanks.”

“You double-thanked me there.”

“Thanks for being impressed,” he clarifies. “And for Alfredo. This- you guys are going to probably literally save lives, you know?”

“Aw, gee,” Cib says, and he smiles back at Parker, the kind of sly, secretive smile that he only gets when nobody else is there. “And here I was just trying to impress you.”

Parker laughs, a little helplessly. “Well, now I’m the impressed one, I guess.”

Cib grins. “Dude, you’re so fucking tired.”

“I’m so tired,” he admits, and shucks off his lab coat. “I haven’t seen a bed in four days, just the underside of a table.”

“Not nearly as comfy, I bet.”

“Not even close.”

“You probably shouldn’t drive,” Cib says, like it’s just occurring to him, or like it hasn’t occurred to Parker a dozen times. “Do you need a ride somewhere?”

“You don’t-”

“Let me take you home,” Cib says, and it’s not an offer but a plea. “Parker, come on.”

“Okay,” Parker says. It’s barely a whisper, but Cib’s face still lights up. “Thank you.”

“Course,” Cib says. As soon as Parker’s close enough he slings one of his arms around Parker’s waist and pulls tight, so tight that Parker’s half leaning on them as they leave the lab. “You look exhausted, I was legit worried you’d pass out driving.”

“You might be right,” Parker mumbles, and he doesn’t say much else as they make their way through the dome. Cib’s talking, about things that might be important but sound like mush to him, and he’s going to have to ask for him to repeat it all when he can listen. “I’m probably going to sleep in your car.”

“I’d be more surprised if you didn’t,” Cib says cheerfully. “And I’ll have, you know, food when you wake up.”

Parker frowns. “What?”

“I’m taking you to my place,” Cib clarifies. “It’s closer, and I know where it is.”

“You don’t-”

“I have a spare room.”

“But-”

“Hey,” Cib says, gentle, careful. It’s so unlike him that Parker wants to smile. “I’ve got you, alright? Mister bigshot scientist, let me take the wheel on this one, okay?”

Parker takes a deep breath. “Okay.”

Cib’s fingers flutter against Parker’s waist, and maybe that’s something they’re going to have to talk about when Parker can have a conversation. But for the moment, Cib just says, “Good.” And Parker can’t help but agree.